Bookkeeping: Lynch
Oct. 23rd, 2012 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clarentineFinally, some words have happened. I've been fighting my way through the scene which is the first turning point, the end of the first act and of the first third of this book. It took a long, long time to gel sufficiently for me to get it into words.
Images don't translate so well, some times. Especially when you're tired, with too much other stuff dodging around in the room behind your eyes.
So, words. Have some metrics:
New words: 1371
Total words: 27,372
Mean things: Mob; threat of beating or worse if they get caught by that rightfully-enraged father; pain, because choosing to take it on means someone else can maybe move a little faster away from the mob. Fleeing for your life and that of people you care about. And, of course, discovering that the goal you'd set yourself, which had nearly been within your grasp, is completely unattainable (but then, it wouldn't be a turning point otherwise).
Research: street addresses relative to where they met the mob and where they gave it the slip (maybe); train tracks coming into the city and the places they go; urban legends of the time, and the names of the people associated with them.
#
I'm taking a long weekend coming up. I need to go get some local apples and make cranberry apple wine jelly for the holidays. We have a local get-together at a farm down the road on Saturday, and I think I'm going to see if I can just spend some time laying out straw in the garden and walking the dog and staring up at blue autumn sky. I'm in that place where I'm doing a lot of reading (and rereading) of other people's writing, and I need to empty out the stress and make room for words of my own.
The damned election can't come soon enough, though of course the craziness won't end there. Maybe we'll get a bit of a break before it starts back up again, though. I'm hoping.
Images don't translate so well, some times. Especially when you're tired, with too much other stuff dodging around in the room behind your eyes.
So, words. Have some metrics:
New words: 1371
Total words: 27,372
Mean things: Mob; threat of beating or worse if they get caught by that rightfully-enraged father; pain, because choosing to take it on means someone else can maybe move a little faster away from the mob. Fleeing for your life and that of people you care about. And, of course, discovering that the goal you'd set yourself, which had nearly been within your grasp, is completely unattainable (but then, it wouldn't be a turning point otherwise).
Research: street addresses relative to where they met the mob and where they gave it the slip (maybe); train tracks coming into the city and the places they go; urban legends of the time, and the names of the people associated with them.
#
I'm taking a long weekend coming up. I need to go get some local apples and make cranberry apple wine jelly for the holidays. We have a local get-together at a farm down the road on Saturday, and I think I'm going to see if I can just spend some time laying out straw in the garden and walking the dog and staring up at blue autumn sky. I'm in that place where I'm doing a lot of reading (and rereading) of other people's writing, and I need to empty out the stress and make room for words of my own.
The damned election can't come soon enough, though of course the craziness won't end there. Maybe we'll get a bit of a break before it starts back up again, though. I'm hoping.
