@spacetrash @Pinchy63
😂Just remember, nothing is written in stone.

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It's always when I'm getting the closest to finishing a project that I have to most excitement and energy to work on it. It's annoying sometimes, but better than the alternative.

3 chapters and an epilogue to go on the current project.

#amwriting #writingcommunity #1stdraft

#WritingWonders: Day 8 - Are you an under writer or over writer?

#1stdraft: (Consider reading the following paragraph dramatically out loud.)

There is a lot to consider when you apply such a label. I know my biggest sins are lack of concision and ellipsis. (Too many words about the same thing and not letting sentences imply a bigger picture with fewer words.) My next sin, which may be a symptom of the first, is my use of hedge hogs to soften meanings that ought be forceful, filling up space, and weasel words to prevent committing completely to an event or assertion, e.g., almost and try to. I do let my characters drive the story, and I write whatever they may blather about, ensuring I understand them well in the expectation I'll prune it out later. Never stop the flow of a story by prematurely editing. I also tend to write the way I speak, adding details and punctuation to allow it to be read aloud, which ends with creating some extraordinarily long sentences that may or may not be necessary—even though they sound good and stylish in dramatic readings. The manuscript for The Girl from the Emeraline Island weighed in at 195,000 words. Between the editors and I, I cut it down to 95,000 by doing the above, and removing subplots.

#revision: I over write.

I revise a lot.

I consider every word and sentence, asking, "Is this necessary? If I cut it, will I miss it? Will I lose something needed later?" I search for my hedge hogs and and weasel words and remove them. Last, I ask if extra characters add anything, or if I need subplots. The result is always a much tighter story.

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#overwriter #writer #writing #author #fiction #revision #amRevising #boostingIsSharing

@golgaloth Well, it was a #writingPrompt, so I wrote something that might not ever otherwise appear in print. #1stdraft. Sorry if a bit rough.

#excerpt:

I pushed open the door to the walkup, then had to push harder. I guess the difficulty substituted for lack of a lock. As the door creaked open, I jerked my head back at the scent of urine. Guess it hadn't worked again today. I thumped up the steps two at a time, up four flights, lit by my blue-green thaulume and wan moonshine through broken dirty windows. Nobody greeted me; perhaps nobody would except in fullshine as, though I looked like a student, I was also one of those shady characters, despite being reasonably girlish and almost pretty. Perhaps I radiated it.Perhaps the thaumlume sprite floating before me was too bright and discomforting.

A rare talent. Which was why I was a student.

I'd just finished a job, too. The idiot would pay back his loan; all I'd had to perform were minor miracles and pyrotechnics that frightened the angel from flying away. Hadn't had to hurt anyone. It was my deal with the boss. I'd be his most efficient enforcer so long as I didn't have to hurt anyone, and I hadn't. The dark angel could have fought, and I'd have defended myself and felt bad about the mess afterwards.

Well, a little bad. Maybe.

I'd been flush with gold from the job, which is why I was happy to be home. Tea and scones with plenty of butter in my tummy, I pushed open my door. No lock, but you guessed that, right? I felt a field tingle passing through, which verified nobody had been so stupid as to enter while I was gone, but I threw the slide bolt behind me. It guaranteed people having to barge in loudly if they wanted to confront me, giving me time to defend myself.

I'd torn off all the wallpaper, leaving stained lath and plaster which to me seemed like a new-art wash of dun and grey that was both pleasing and calming. I'd spent days sanding, filling, and varnishing the partially rotted and distressed floorboards -- could it be pine? It was mud color, so the knots were barely a clue. I had a table, similarly refurbished by me, and a periwinkle china wash basin I'd glued back together. No sense on spending anything except on books, food, and rent as far as I was concerned. Beyond that, and the oval window, was my stack of hay. I inhaled. It smelled fresh, since I'd brought it yesterday, and reminded me of not-city. It combined with the scent of the trash fire at the end of the block. I heard kids laughing and talking.

Kids? They were older than me, but they hadn't been other people's sharp tool so my years counted double! At least.

I still liked the burnt smell. City incense, right? I grinned, dropping my book bag. I dug out my new tome. Leatherbacked. Gilt lettering. Rare and delightfully musty. Merchant Ducket's Codicils and Interlocutory Physics, 3rd Extended Edition. The 19th had been redacted heavily by the Directorate. It cost plenty, but nothing made me happier than warping reality, and I really did love the math. It never hurt when something in your head helped you do the arithmetic! I fluffed the hay up, snuggled into it despite the initial itchiness against my skin. I started reading, figuring I could finish my homework later.

I'd earned this. Lit by my sprite and the moonshine that over the next hours passed across the open book, I read and learned new stuff.

Eventually, I had to stretch.

That revealed a familiar blue envelope. Right. The window had been open and I usually closed it. Bolt, the boss' light angel runner had dropped it in. An urgent job, doubtless. Lots of gold.

Foo on that. I swiped it away. Let the boss try to make me work extra. Wouldn't end well.

I went to sleep, hugging the book like a plush rabbit.

#writing #author #sff #fantasy #story #shortfiction #minifiction #writingLife #boostingIsSharing.

If my #WIP was a movie, the song playing in the last scene would be "363N63" by King Krule, & immediately as the credits roll "Them Changes" by Thundercat would drop.🤌🏽

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