Well, the novel's done.
How sad that I won't be spending time with my characters any more, at least not for awhile. I miss them already!
The novel didn't come out at all as I expected. The big, major themes and ideas never made it onto the page and it ended up being a love story. I crammed the whole story I wanted to write into a couple of chapters, big "exposition dumps." I do nothing to *show* what's happening, I just tell the reader what's going on. That makes the climax, which I also "tell," very flat.
What can I say? I ran out of time. I had to struggle as it was to get from beginning to end in thirty days, but didn't have any trouble getting to the 50,000 words that were needed.
Now I need to find another justification for my life. The role of amateur novelist can only be milked for a month.
It's Over
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2 comments:
perhaps true (though i have visions of one day being able to spread that joy throughout the year). but coming soon we do have the role of amateur editor to look forward to...
but hell, you did reach the 50 thou target. that's a start!
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