My Nanowrimo novel continues to limp along. It’s up to 38,547 words now, or 101 paperback pages. If I were to choose one word to describe it, it would be “flaccid.” Lacking vigor or energy. Weak. Soft.
When you know your book is irredeemably bad, it’s hard to keep putting in the time and energy each day to make it longer.
It’s not that every single thing in it is awful. Some of the language is okay. Some of the characters have potential, especially the ones based on real people. (By the way, Robin – you have 14 cats now.) But I’m not just being modest when I say the book is bad. It really is.
But I take comfort from the fact that I did not decide to write it online where everybody could see it. Because then I’d have to maintain some minimal standards of quality control, and that would seriously impede my word count.
And I take comfort from the fact that I only have 11,453 words to go, which means I should be done on Monday or Tuesday.
And I take comfort from the knowledge that my next book – which is already waiting in the wings, full of energy and potential – will be So Much Better.
My plan is to hit 50,000 words with this one, wrap it up badly, write The End, and then immediately start the next one. With a little luck, I’ll have two books by the end of November: A bad one, and a not-bad one. Wish me luck.