I’ve wrote this month. No, I’m not kidding. And not just messing around with a few paragraphs here and a couple of sentences there. Nouns and verbs have come together like the sludge in Stanley Miller’s lab.
Some days, I can’t get to the computer. I’m too wiped out from the workday to do anything but crash on my couch. Other days, especially on the weekends, I can get four or five pages done. I estimate I’ve got thirty pages written for the opening of my novel. That’s not a lot considering I’ve got a daily goal of a thousand words, but there have been whole months this year where I haven’t been able to write, so I’m not complaining.
I know there’s more work to do in revisions. Some writers say that’s where a story really takes shape. The job of the first draft is just to exist. It might be a crappy first draft. That’s fine. That’s its job. The first draft’s other job is to help set the rhythm for the project. I kept rewriting the first couple of pages over a couple of days. I wasn’t editing, just trying out different ways to start the book.
There was a real sense of relief finishing the novel’s first section. Some sections ahead are going to be much longer, but this is the first milestone for me. I’d like to have this first draft finished by the end of November, and if I keep up the momentum, I think that’s realistic.