And so it begins. It’s 3 PM and I have 1885 words written. That’s a prologue, Chapter One (three scenes), and one scene of Chapter Two.
I was surprisingly anxious about beginning, but found it neither too hard nor too easy. Maybe that’s what we call “just right?”
Yesterday, I worked on the Pitch, but couldn’t make it as succinct and gripping as I’d like. I’m going to work it over every day until I feel it’s right. Maybe that can serve as a compass to tell me whether I’m still on the map.
The map, the map…I need to make a map of my setting.
Impressions as I wrote:
Everything needs saying all at once.
It’s hard to know where to start.
Writing a novel after many short stories feels luxurious and a little bit self-indulgent.
I don’t know if it’s any good or not.
It’s harder than it ever was not to go back and edit as I go.