I promised a friend of mine that I would have the second draft of my WIP for her to read by the end of February.
And I let the story sit for too long until this past week, when I did a blitz of writing. This suddenly imposed deadline did wonders for my story. It made me write things I wouldn't otherwise have written, and it got words down on the page.
Why is it that writing becomes so hard after awhile? They're just words, right? But getting those words on there is more than just typing away madly. Say that an average novel will be about 70,000 words long. (Obviously the word count will change with each genre.) That's 70,000 decisions the writer has to make, and I think after awhile, my brain just decides it's done making decisions about which word to put next.
Things that go into making those decisions when there is no deadline:
1. Is this the right word?
2. Is this the direction I want my story to go in?
3. Will this phrase highlight what I want it to?
4. Does this move the plot forward?
5. Do I need to do more research before writing this section?
179. Should I stop writing and read over EVERYTHING I have so far, just to get a feel for where I'm at? (Hint: The answer to this one is usually NO!)
Things that go into making decisions when there is a deadline:
1. How fast can I type this scene?
We writers can labor over single sentences for hours trying to make sure every word is justified and correct. But at some point, I know I have to realize that my readers are going to be reading the perfect sentence I spent hours creating in about two seconds or less. Deadlines are helpful because they make me write at the speed my readers will be reading. There are other times where I want to slow down and think about the decisions I make while I write, but pressure is good now and then.
Do you write better when you have a deadline? Do you impose deadlines on yourself to get yourself writing?
I didn't reach my deadline entirely. There is still a lot more to do if I'm going to finish the second draft. But I got a good portion of it done and I feel great about that. To celebrate, here's the opening scene. Feel free to let me know what you think. Enjoy!
“Who’s this lad here?” asked a lady. A man said he didn’t know. He said he found him in the streets, arrested him for being under age out at night, and couldn’t get him to speak a single word.
“How old is he?”
“Don’t rightly know. Looks to be about 15, don’t you think?”
“And no one’s come for him?”
“No. We’ve held him for two weeks and there’s been no one. Only thing I know to do is leave him with you, here at the orphanage. Only thing he’ll tell me is his name.”
“And what’s that then?”
“Aden Hubbard.” The lady drew up some paper work. “You don’t think anyone will mind if I assign him an age, do you? It’ll make it easier for him, just being assigned one.”
“I don’t mind. I just want to see him taken care of.”
“Most likely he’ll go unclaimed until he’s 16. Those that graduate out of the system are worse off. I’ll put down 14. That’ll give him a few years to get his feet.” Before morning, Aden Hubbard became a part of the system. Though he was much older than 14, he was grateful. Being in a strange country alone was hard enough without room and board.