Finished!

I... Oh gods, give me a moment. *Deep breath*

Ok, I'm alright. I'm good.

Right, OK, so.... I'm finished. Done. Complete.

I just wrote the final chapter of 'Grey Sister'.

For the past eight months, this has been my whole goal. Everything I've been working towards. A whole book, written from start to finish. And I've done it. I actually made it. I didn't give up half way or forget about it or move on to something else. I actually finished. And you know what?

It was easy. 

Don't get me wrong. It was hard. REALLY hard. Its been hours and hours, day after day, of work. I've not stopped thinking about writing for more than twenty minutes at a time. It's constantly on my mind, constantly wanting my attention. I've sacrificed a lot of hours that I could have been spending with friends or family or my boyfriend for it. I've put aside books I've wanted to read, stopped watching TV shows I loved, I've even cut down on my long, lovely soaks in the bath because The Book Always Comes First. I've kept working in a shop and put aside my career plans aside, passing up on job opportunities because I so wanted to do my best and try to achieve this one, stupid, outlandish dream.

The writing itself has been a huge learning curve, figuring out all the rules from scratch and working my way through plot holes and poor grammar and my constant desire to repeat the same basic writing techniques again and again (and again. See? There I go again with the triplication!)

But it's been fun. So fun. The best fun (Triplication again, dammit). Even though it was tough, writing has never actually felt like "work". I've never sat down to write and wished I could be doing something else. Even when I struggled to find the words or got stuck in a scene, I've constantly enjoyed the simple pleasure of writing.

While it has been a long time, it never really daunted me how far I still had to go. If it had been an university assignment, the idea that I would be working on it for the next who-knows how many months would have made me want to run and hide. But the only thing that's ever really scared me about writing has been finishing. Because next is the really hard bit and I'm equal parts excited and terrified to enter the publishing game.

I'm so happy that I've finally made it. I keep insisting that getting published is the main aim of all this, but actually writing a whole book has always been the biggest goal. If nothing else, even if 'Grey Sister' never comes to anything more than a series of files on my computer, I'm so glad I've done this.

So then, for one last time.

The word count, as of 9th March, 2014 is:

135, 917.

Eight months since starting. Prologue and twenty three chapters. 

Completed.

Now, where's my champagne? 

End of February Wordcount...

128,714.

Prologue, twenty chapters and a quarter.

Seven + months since starting.

Only a few days late! Oops. There's been a lot going on story-wise this month and there's been some scenes I've been looking forward to writing for months and months, which has really helped speed me up. I'm someone who definitely likes to write chronologically, so its exciting to start reaching the end. 

There was one chapter in particular I had real struggles with this month and it bogged me down for quite a while. It was a scene I felt was important for the characters, but not very interesting for the reader so I had some difficulty trying to get over that and just get it written so I could move on. Hopefully when I go back to it I'll be able to see it a little clearer and hopefully get it polished up better. 

Not much more to go now. March may be my very last progress update! Eeek!

Grey Sister

The Book has a name!

Or a tentative one at least...

'Grey Sister' is the first book in the 'Ellorah' triology. A full synopsis (which, to be honest, isn't terribly informative) can be found on the 'About the Book' page.

End of January Wordcount...

110, 202. 

Prologue, sixteen chapters and a quarter. 

Six + months since starting. 

January has been another busy month for me. I only finished my extra work in the library in the last week, so time still hasn't been on my side writing wise. I also had my five year anniversary with my other half to celebrate which, of course, kept my away from my laptop (but, for a pretty nice reason, so I can forgive him).

I have, however, reached a very big milestone this month: 100k words! Really pleased to have made it to such a big milestone in my writing. It's also been a full half a year since I began The Book, which feels at once like a long time and not enough at all. The Book has become a huge part of my life and, to be totally honest, almost my entire vision for the future. I find it hard to believe that this time last year I hadn't even had the first idea for the story.

Now I'm so far into writing I'm starting to think seriously about What Comes Next. That has scared me a little and I think my pace has slowed recently because of that. Nevertheless, I'm almost finished plot wise. I figure I have three major events left before the climax, which really isn't much at all. Another 20,000 words, perhaps?

Next month I hope I can get a really good focus and start heading for the finish line in earnest....

I. Am. Terrified.

Having hit a lot of big sign posts recently, finishing the manuscript for The Book is actually within sight. If I can keep up my pace I estimate that I could actually reach the end in about two months, rather than four.

Which leaves me to face something I've been ignoring for months: I am absolutely terrified. 

I've always known that breaking into the writing sphere was going to be hard. It seems like the entire literary world (and the rest of the world for that matter) does nothing but tell me: its rough out here, kid. I think that given the constant stream of warnings and crushing personal accounts of failure, ambition can be quelled before the first words are even on the page. Certainly, it was a concern for me when I first started writing. But it was more important to me when I started that I try and do it at all. I know there are plenty of people out there who had the same thought. After all, if no one ever took the chance, there would be no new writers! So we set off on our endeavours with hope and crossed fingers and the promise that, 'it's OK just to finish at all'.

In the knowledge that I will soon need to start thinking about The Next Stage, I've started casually browsing through publishing guides: flicking through publishing books when I'm stacking shelves in the library, pausing in the self-help section in Waterstone's, even buying a writing magazine (which I will be reviewing hopefully in my next post).

What I've found from this is that, of course, publishing a book really is as scary as people make out.

Setting aside the difficulty of finding an agent willing to promote you and getting your book read by a publisher, there seems to be a hell of a lot more to getting your book out into the world than just writing it. It seems like every perspective writer has to have completed at least a dozen writing courses, if not a Masters Degree in Creative Writing; have a portfolio of published short stories, poetry and articles; and have a list of competition winnings to tote in their writer's CV. Me, I have none. Zero. Nothing. I've never had so much as a problem printed in Teen Miss, never mind won a national writing competition. I feel like I'm going in blind. Right now it seems entirely possible that if I do send my poor little Book out into the big wide world that the best I could hope for is that the bigger kids don't just laugh and sent it home crying.

How can I hope to compete with all these people who've put years and years into their writing? Even if I do have a good idea, even if my book is somewhat original and a little bit interesting, even if its actually kind of good, how can I ever hope to get someone to look beyond my pathetic begging letter to see it? When there are writers who can fill a whole page just with their accomplishments, how can just another 'girl who always dreamed of writing' get herself noticed?

I'm still hopeful though. Even though I'm scared, I'm ever the optimist. Hopefully, I am as prepared as I claim to face years of hard work and rejection in order to see ambitions reached. In the meantime, I'll start trying to get a better picture of the world I'm about to face. More books, more research, more more more...

Oh gods, they're going to eat me alive...

Hitting the Big Hundred...

So, I got a little carried away (and a little terrible at adding up) and whooshed right past the 100k mark today while writing. Which means my word count as of January 10th is: 

102, 673 !!!

It's a crazy amount to finally be hitting. I can't quite believe I did it all myself. Perhaps the elves came at night to add to my wordcount? That being said, it's been a long haul to make it this far. A massive number of hours (I can't even imagine how many) have gone into The Book (which may have a name now, but I want to keep trying it out in my head before I start using it out loud) and I've put a lot of myself into it. 

It's not just the time, but the amount of emotional effort and sacrifices that go into a project of this size. There's little things, like not playing on the Wii or reading as much or watching as much TV because they're all big time eaters, but there's also the bigger things. I know I've given a lot of the time I would have been spending with my boyfriend away to the book, which I feel very guilty about. He's incredibly supportive though and he knows that this is a hugely important thing for me to do, but we struggle to get time together as it is (his work is a fair commute and we very rarely have days off together, especially with me working two jobs just now) and though I always want to be with him I have to keep up with writing. Even when I do have time away from The Book, it's constantly on my mind and I've become a lot more introverted I think. I certainly feel like I spend a lot of time "in my head" so to speak. I'm a prolific daydreamer as it is but having a story constantly being tweaked in my head makes even someone as scatter-brained as me seem more preoccupied than normal. Which I think makes me a bit of a pain to be around right now, so I hope my friends and family will forgive me.

The other thing that's really taken a back seat to my writing is my real-world job hunt. I knew this was going to be the case and prepared myself to not be progressing career-wise for a while. But it's a bit of a tricky thing to explain to people who ask why you're still in That Shop Job and not looking for something more. But I'm still not comfortable telling people about my ambition (though a few more friends know now) so I've taken to casually changing the topic when it comes up. It will still be a long while yet before I'll know if I'll be able to make anything career-wise from The Book so I'll have to try and hold on on the job front for a while yet. 

Until the end of January I'll be continuing working two jobs, so the word count might not be as healthy as I'd like by the end of the month, but I'll try to keep plodding along and hopefully I can keep adding bits here and there. 

But, Holy Poop: look how far I've come! The finish line is in sight! We're going for gold! And other sports metaphors!

Some Inspiration Pictures...

Some images I have in the bank for reference for my main character:

I'm going to need a lot of new ones soon as the story moves away from its original setting. I'm hoping to visit the Royal Armouries in Leeds and hopefully some stately homes in the New Year to get some ideas.

(You might be able to tell: the genre of The Book is fantasy...)

Main Character Troubles...

The difficulty with a main character is to not make them perfect. It's so easy to make a character who sees every clue the author leaves, reacts correctly to every dilemma, never says the wrong thing. Making your lead real means making them human, which means giving them flaws. Ok, so you have a pretty, good looking female lead. Now give her big feet. Make her chew her nails. Give her acne, split ends, tiny breasts and a flat bottom. Then again, who wants to write about someone ugly and mean? Who wants to read that? Fiction is about escapism after all. So maybe a few allowances can be made. But let's try not to get carried away, shall we?

The other temptation, especially when writing about a character whose the same gender as you, is to make them you. Oh, she loves the colour purple. She has curly hair. She drinks black coffee and loves books and the smell of cut grass and hates lavender and bad grammar... Oh, whoops. No, let me rethink... She hates coffee. Drinks water all the time. Likes to exercise. Her hair is straight, her eyes are dark. She likes cleaning toilets and being really cold all the time! Whoops. Suddenly you've made your own anti-self. Some strange, polar opposite of yourself who's as contrived as the one who was exactly like you.

With Thea, my lead, I've tried to give her a little bit of myself. It would be impossible not to put something of yourself into a character after all. But writing yourself is boring to read and obnoxious to write. Instead, I find things we have in common.  She hates the smell of coffee, but she loves the way a book feels in her hand. She's calmer than me, but still a little nervous. I worry about the perfection thing. I want her to be kind and honest and cleaver. She has to be cleaver, because of where she comes from. And kindness suits her. But maybe she should lie a little? Maybe she should jump to the wrong conclusion sometimes, be more stubborn, less forgiving. 

She needs some work yet, I think.