Sometimes I am happy to do anything but what I’m supposed to be doing. That is particularly true when I start a new book. First drafts – ugh! That little word counter at the bottom of the page stares at me like some sinister fiend taunting me. Just see if you can add to my number. Ha! If you do, will they be “keepable” words? No, the word count thingy doesn’t really speak, but it does just sit there, and it’s daunting to think, “Okay, I’m at 1500 words, I need 1500 more. I can stop when I hit 3000 today.”
I would rather go for a walk. Or read Facebook posts. Or answer email. Or exercise. Or do laundry. Maybe clean the bathroom? How about those errands? Oh, I have a doctor visit. Too bad about that word count.
Except it is still waiting there at the end of the day. And to keep up with my deadlines, I have to add those words.
If only the next scene would just write itself.
I am definitely one of those writers who would rather “have written.” The rewrites are always more fun. Easier. Challenging.
First drafts are like diets. They both involve numbers, only on a diet we usually want to see the numbers go down. In a book, I want to see them go up.
Rewrites are like shopping for new clothes. The only thing I concern myself with is the price tag. They are the polish on the new look the diet has given me. Rewrites put the shine on the first round of words.
I hate dieting. And I hate first drafts.
Anyone want to go shopping? Oh yeah, I’ve got 87,000 more words to write first. (If I eat chocolate after every paragraph, how many pounds will I need to lose when I’m done?)
Sigh~
