Blogging twice in one week? That’s got to be some kind of record for me. (Usually it’s one post, and then I disappear for months at a time.) But I figured because I’m excited about how much writing I’ve done recently, it was about time for me to do my first official check-in.
A little background on my WIP, Harbinger: It’s technically existed since my sophomore year of high school. I’ve been working on it as a novel for about six or seven years. It’s contemporary fantasy, and the draft I’m working on for my independent study this term is pretty much a major rewrite, in terms of plot structure. (By the way, I am sick of these, so I’m hopeful that there won’t be novel surgery that’s quite as extensive in the future.) It involves a twist on banshee mythology and my favorite obscure Irish fairy-creature.
So, what are my project goals for Harbinger? 80,000 words by May 15th (the end of this semester) so I can work on it for my first tutorial this summer (eep!), which means writing 20,000 words by the end of each month. That gives me a little leeway when we get to May.
Current status for January? At 14,000 words right this second. I’m feeling pretty confident about making the 20k mark before the 31st, and obviously
if when I hit that goal early, I’ll keep going, because it would be silly not to. (Plus, it would be smart for me to bank up some time, again, on the upsetting occasion that I have a depressive episode to struggle through.)
I’m happy with this draft so far. It’s not as descriptive as I would like, but I know I have edits to fix and improve that. The logic makes more sense–at the moment. My villain actually has a purpose! And I still love my characters: Christelle, Gideon, and Willow. I’m still in love with and committed to this story. I’ll work on it as long as I have to in order to make it right.
Anyway, in celebration of how far Harbinger has come, here’s a very teeny snippet from my favorite scene I’ve worked on so far (in which Christelle catches a temporarily-anonymous person stealing flowers):
It was better than nightmares, she thought grimly, moving away from the window and tiptoeing past Armie to open her bedroom door. Although her mother would be a nightmare if she realized someone was stealing flowers from her garden.
It’s not much, but it’s becoming something.