I fast approach the thirty thousand word mark in my new novel. This is the danger zone, the portion of the novel-writing process where it is “oh so easy” to consider the whole enterprise a piece of shiite and toss it over in favor of television or video game zombie-blasting or that bottle of Smirnoff you’ve been saving for a rainy day (cheapskate–I mean Smirrnoff, really?). This is the make or break point for novel writers. Passing it guarantees nothing, but cutting and running at this point can become a crutch, and it’s easier to bail the more times you hit thirty and go “eh, the next one will be better”. While working on the last novel I made myself power through, and I intend to do the same this time.
First step on that road? Cease the blogging wankery.
Later, Internets. I’m off to write another ten thousand, and then some.