So, I wrote a metric fuckton today. In fact, I’m writing this paragraph at a bit after four in the morning because I wrote 4.5k between the hours of midnight at 4:15 am. Why? Because I have no self control and do my best writing at weird-ass hours. Woo. Now I’m just dancing to my writing music while sitting in my chair because I am completely delirious omg why am I like this
Don’t answer that.
Anyway, what follows should be a little more normal. As normal as I ever am.
So, obviously that first 4.5k kind of steamrolled out of nowhere and all was fine. The rest of what I wrote today was a little harder to achieve, but me being a stubborn ass pays off once again.
I’ve set my Camp wordcount goal at 50k now, which is where it will be staying for the rest of the month. I’m estimating my total wordcount will be somewhere between 50k and 60k, judging from the amount I have left to write in this draft. I’m notoriously bad at consistent chapter lengths while outlining, though, so that is absolutely subject to change. Maybe one of the chapters I have left will end up being a monster in length or way shorter than expected. Time will tell.
I’m at the true pointy end of the plot now, partway through chapter 20 out of 23, including the epilogue. I’m having to make a lot of notes in the Scrivener notes section for things I’m going to have to work on foreshadowing when I get to the revision stage. I have made up a lot of things on the fly that need to be better seeded into the narrative. Oops.
Still, first drafts generally suck anyway. I still like what I’m doing even if it’s more of a lump of a coal than a diamond at this point.
IT’S SUCH A GAY MASTERPIECE OF A MUSIC VIDEO OKAY
Because I don’t know when to quit at bullshit o’clock in the morning:
#Thurds: theme is “pick”
I’m not religious but I think Satan is on my case:
In this excerpt, Eira is about to attempt something extremely dangerous. The next section is a little spoilery for stuff so I had to end it before it got to my favourite line in the scene so I’m just gonna write it here because it is just so Eira: “When I die, it will not be by drowning. That’s just embarrassing.”
I skirt along the forest’s edge as far as it can go before the ground gets too unstable so close to the sea. There is a tunnel set just below the level of the wall against the sea, constructed to look like a sewer with metal bars covering the entrance. But it’s actually a gate.
The problem is, at this time of night, that gate will be completely underwater and won’t drain out until late tomorrow morning. There’s no time. I’ll have to swim out to the tunnel, swim inside, open the gate and then swim to the stairs that will lead me out of the water.
I kick off my boots and shuck off my long-sleeved leather vest. I left enough knives behind that I can stash the remainders in the holsters on my legs and a pair strapped underneath my shirt.
This better pay off. If I end up on the run from my father and don’t have time to change into dry clothes, this is going to be a long, freezing night. I’m already shivering.
I peer out from the tree cover. I can barely see one of the guards around the curve of the city walls, looming over us like a hungry beast. If I run for the water, he shouldn’t see me.
I rub my arms and take in a deep breath. Okay. Let’s do this.
I break cover, racing for the coast, measuring my breaths best I can. I’ll need as much air as I can get once I’m underwater and the last thing I need is to be gasping before I’m even swimming. The rocky sand bites the soles of my feet but I keep running. Pain is temporary and the salt water will clean any cuts I might get from this.
The salt water licks my feet and I plunge in, picking up my legs best I can to avoid getting bogged down and exposed before I reach water deep enough for swimming. The rock-stand falls away from my feet and I pitch forward, kicking my legs and flailing my arms a little less gracefully than I would’ve liked. But my head stays mostly above water and I’m swimming.
I stroke towards the wall. There’s no real reason to post guards out this side, even if the tops of the wall weren’t too degraded for someone without supreme balance, so I should be in the clear. I hope I am. It’s not like I can defend myself all that well while I’m floating in the brine like this.
The section of wall I’m looking for is damaged, a long vertical scar cutting into the brick. The moon is just bright enough to spot it. I swim slowly towards it, one hand below the surface of the water to feel for the top lip of the fake sewer entrance. The top should be just below the surface, not that it will be any comfort once I’m in there and cloaked in complete darkness.
My hand meets stone. Here we are. I climb on top and sit on the edge, teeth chattering in the cold as I try to catch my breath. I will have to be completely calm once I’m in the tunnel. The dark underwater tunnel. Fuck.
I’ve done my share of dangerous jobs. Feared for my life many times. I tip my head up to the moonlit sky, close my eyes and just… breathe.