So, I’ve been writing Accepting the Lance in chunks —
((AGAIN? moans the kid in the back.))
I heard that.
So. I’ve been writing Accepting the Lance in chunks — yes, again, and no, I don’t know why. I used to be a straight-on writer. I guess my brain decided that was too easy, anymore.
And, as is, I think, typical of writing a thing in chunks — one chunk over There with Character A; another chunk over Here with Character B; yet another chunk ‘waaaaaaaaay over There with Character C; and another chunk with Who The Heck IS that Guy — you get the feeling that you’re running the Red Queen’s Race, that you’re getting nowhere, and not particularly fast, either.
So, it’s a Gratifying Moment when your Author Sense tingles in that special way that means It’s Time to Compile, and you realize that you do have 150 pages — which is to say, 1/3 of a novel +/- — all lined up nice and neat (always excepting That Guy — Who the Heck IS That Guy, Anyway?), and you Have Too been working.
Now, I get to read the compiled draft to find out what hooks the back-brain set, and feel out the shape of the Rest of the Story.