I'm not saying that I thought writing a novel would be easy, but I certainly didn't think it would be seven years in the making. Let's be honest, after seven years of stewing over one story and chasing plot bunnies down various Alice-esque rabbit holes, one would think that I would have a pretty solid idea of where the hell I'm going by now. But I don't. I'm 17K words in to my first novel and I'm still not sure where the gang is going to end up.
Let's get this straight. I know the general idea of how I want things to go...but that doesn't mean I know the directions. And this isn't one trip that my addiction to Google maps can navigate. Unfortunately. Believe me. I've tried.
And my time is WANING. As in, I have two weeks to complete what I couldn't complete ALL SUMMER. This is to say, my summer goal was to at least make a dent in my novel. Technically summer began for me on May 10 at 9am when I finished my last exam and it will end September 1 at about 9am when I move back to campus. Ugh. Shoot me.
And college is a whole other can of worms. Believe me. We're not even going to go there. Let's just say there's a big change coming up for me, as in a move (hopefully into an apartment if I can swing the cash) and a school switch. I'm not looking forward to it. Actually, that's a lie. I am looking forward to changing schools in a sort of morbid way, in that it will be nice to be in a new environment, but it will also suck becuase I will have no friends. However, no friends could be a pro because then I'd have absolutely nothing else to do with my time than to lie around and work on my damn novel! This is a great idea. No friends is looking better and better...
Well...I suppose that's all I have to say. Whoever you are, that may or may not be reading this...
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