Eight years and 218k words later.

Maybe it‘s self-sabotage through the opposite of procrastination…

My novel doesn’t sit in a dusty drawer, locked away in the dark. It constantly glows on my iPad screen, the brightness turned all the way down so as not to strain my squinty, bloodshot eyes, as the word count grows and grows.

You see, there’s one of the problems: two adjectives instead of one to describe my tired, blurry eyes. Sometimes I even use three and tell myself, and my exasperated beta readers, I will choose the best one in the edit.

After much wringing of hands, I hired an editor. They could barely contain their excitement when I told them my word count. The cost per word can be anywhere from .014 to .022 cents, so…you do the math. I think I will be putting their kids through college or at least covering a few boat payments. We all know how much editors like boats…

In preparation for my first manuscript evaluation I scoured and scrubbed [again: two verbs where one would do] my novel in order to cull unnecessary scenes, phrases, words, adverbs, adjectives and notes. I write notes to myself [as you’ve already seen] within the document so I don’t forget to add more stuff, research, decide on dialogue or just question myself with question marks imprisoned in parentheses. (?) [I had to look up the difference between parentheses and parenthesis. Very interesting.] Yeah, I use these brackets [] to wall off the explanations to myself so when I read it later I have a clue as to what I was thinking at the time of my writing trance [fugue state] (?). So, there’s that also, adding to the ballooning word count.

All of that superfluous verbiage [fun, I like to play with words] has to be taken out before the editor receives my word count. I will not waste her time and my money with notes to myself. So, these notes are not deleted but copied and pasted into another document called ‘CUTs’, labeled with the chapter from whence they came [funny, I didn’t know whence had a (h)]. I have lots of these, eight years worth. So much so, in fact, [pick one of those introductory phrases, don’t use both [research what those are called - are they called introductory phrases?]] I may even create an unabridged three volume set of this monster of a novel, replete (?) with additional research, my handwritten notes and sketches, a la House of Leaves. Sure, instead of one book, let’s make four with pictures and crazy typefaces…How much will that cost Ms. Editor? [reminder: learn how to use Vellum] I see this as another form of may procrastination or fear of finishing, moving the goal posts not laterally but further and further away.

After cleaning out my notes, mistakes, excess verbosity and anything within the walls of parathetical punctuation, my novel goT BIGGER! I ADDED words. Of course, this was during NaNoWriMo, and, as a rebel (one who counts all words), I was counting all my edited words PLUS what I was adding, had to make my daily word count, right? Hence the sabotage through the opposite of procrastination. What shall we call this? Procrastinage? Sabonation?

Maybe I don’t want this novel to end.

Maybe I like living within the world of this creation, with characters who have no resolution but are rich with possibility…[nice sentence]

”We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives within the dream…” Twin Peaks. I had to quote David Lynch in here.

Maybe I don’t want to wake up from my dream.

No. I must finish. I must finish in 2025. Independently publish by September 2025. After one or maybe two more rewrites with the help of my editor. After learning Vellum and whatever other programs will help me finish this thing and release it into the wild.

Draft 9 begins today, or tomorrow. I have too much to do today including writing this essay. Thanks for reading it by the way. The picture above shows [depicts?] my workstation with everything I have pertaining to this novel splayed out on a table. I don’t have to search for anything, its all right there. There is no escape. Close the door and pour all the notes, sketches and research into the document. No more paper. No more Reminders or Notes dictated to Siri in the car. No more post-its. Save the ideas for the next novel. [The next novel will not take ten years and be 200k+ words!] It all goes in the boiling pot with the lid set firmly on top. A cauldron [cool, cuz my novel is about witches] of my ideas, stewing for eight years, like a fine wine or whiskey, or whatever improves with age. “We sell no wine, before its time,” said a portly Orson Wells. How about novels? [research The Time Machine by H.G. Wells - find a cool quote] “There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.” The Time Traveler from The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.

My book of eight years is chock full of my consciousness and subconscious(ness?). Soon it will be real and have three dimensions…except in ebook form, and audio book…Should I do an audiobook? If so, I need to tell my cover designer…Who’s gonna narrate? Orson Wells would have been perfect.

Sorry, I digress. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for this project with everything spread out before me. It’s all there and on the cloud, folders and folders of backup files in .pages, .pdf, .word formats labeled with the draft number and the date. I don’t want to jinx myself but I only had to sift through a backup file once. What I saw there was horrific, a madman’s mess. Kinda like this essay. Are you still here? Faithful reader, editor? Sorry, its late and my bloodshot eyes are getting bleary and blurry again.

This is the year my novel is completed. 2025. The year it is made real, gains three dimensions and populates pixels on Kindles and Apple devices. I’m not sure I would ever be able to read it without marking it up with a highlighter and pen, scribbling arrows, making notes. But, I will always save the final, unedited draft, the info dump of my thought processes. (say it like the British do, it just sounds better: processeees, kinda like schedule.)

Good, it appears I am past the minimum one thousand words for this essay. It has been a welcome respite from my manuscript but I need to get it done so I can begin my ninth and penultimate [great word] draft and send it to the editor who will kill all my darlings. But, my darlings won’t be fully dead, just mostly dead [The Princess Bride]. I will hide them in my CUTs folder and compile them all into my three volume boxed set available on the highest tier of my Kickstarter campaign replete [complete?] with glossy dust jackets, end page ink [proper term?] and bespoke bookmark with a golden tassel. As soon as I learn Vellum…and Kickstarter…

…and the goal post moves further and further away.

I hope my editor gives me a ride in her boat.