Having just crossed the 100k word count in my work-in-progress, I’m finding the going easier than before. Why is that?
I always enjoy the start of a new novel. The blankness of the computer screen, the ideas jostling in my head—each wanting to be caught and pinned down first—these things inspire me to create something new. The pages blur past me. Before I know it, I’m wrapping up chapter five.
When I come up for air, I get a glimpse of the mountain of work towering over me, and it seems like too much. This is when a good support system is vital. My wife is always there to tell me how awesome I am (and, no, she doesn’t drink much. Go figure.). But one way or another, I dive back into it. This middle section is where rhythm comes into play. When I’m in the zone, the pages get cranked out and the book starts to gather its own momentum. When I’m not . . . well, it can be an uphill climb.
All this effort carries me into the final act. (Do any other authors think of their books in terms of acts?) This is where I find myself now, in that boiling cauldron where the storylines I laid down earlier are all coming together. At this point, the words flow so easily it’s like I’m not in control anymore, but just holding on with both hands and hoping I don’t get thrown off before the ride comes to a halt. This is the second funnest (yes, I know it’s not a word. Get over it.) time in the writing process for me. The grand charge to the finish line.
*Cue Chariots of Fire theme song.*
