(no subject)

The wind beneath my whinge

So, I depressed myself last night by sitting down and figuring out the page count for each chapter I've finished thus far, calculating an average page count, estimating how many chapters it will take to finish, and doing the math (SMF). Let us say that it was more than I anticipated. There's not a lot left in the 1968 and 1977 timeframes, but the 6th century has a lot going on.

If you are an organized writer, you might say to yourself, "Pam, shouldn't you have known this before now?"

The answer is no. I couldn't really do an estimate like this before because there is always a certain amount of terra incognito in my novels as I write them. And my plots are always complicated. I'm just now at a point where all the plot elements are coming to fruition, where the lookout has called, "Land ho!" and I can see the entire stretch of water between me and that shore I hope to land upon.

Realistically, I think it probably won't take as many words to get there as my crude estimate suggests, but the thought that it might took the wind out of my sails. Just a bit. The wind has picked up again and I'm still on course. But.

And for those of you kind enough to agree to read this monster in its entirety, I won't be expecting you to read this monster. I plan to do some hacking (maybe quite a lot) before I inflict it on any beta.

And then there's this here post right here by sartorias featuring Rudyard Kipling talking about writing long and cutting down and the work being the richer for it. That was some consolation.