Well . . . maybe it is.
Penultimate is here–or was. I was working the next to last scene for Transporting last night, and I kept at it. It took time, mostly because I allowed myself to be distracted by something that I should have known better about. The moment I put that nonsense to the side, the writing took off. Which was a very good thing, because in the end, a scene that I didn’t think would take too many words to get out of the way ended up running 2,145 words.
It came out pretty well, very well, indeed, because this was another scene I’d seen many, many times throughout the last twenty five years. What is really strange is how this scene has evolved. When I first thought of it, it was suppose to be really downbeat–and it was suppose to be the end of the novel. That’s it, fin. Then I realized that, naw, that sucked. It might fit within the context of some of the things reviled in the novel, but it wouldn’t be very logical.
So I changed it. And changed it again. And after a couple of further revisions, I ended up with want I wanted last night.
It’s suppose to be about the future, what might happen for a couple of my main characters. Instead, when I think about it, it’s not all that much about uncertainty as it is about any relationship: will it work? How will things work out between us? Are there going to be issues? I don’t bring any of that up in those very words, but you get the sense that, through the eyes of the character doing the writing–because this chapter is all in first person–they start out worried about the direction of things, and by the time you reach the final sentence, you get the feeling they are going to sort of kick back and wait to see what happens.
It goes back to something I’ve heard time and again: ”You don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring you, that’s why it’s so great.” That’s such a good line I may use it tonight when I write . . .
The Last Scene.
Yes, it has come to that point. It has come to where I’m about a thousand or so words away from the end of this journey. And all it’s taken is about five weeks.
Five weeks to put to rest the labors of almost twenty five years.
And here’s an interesting little factoid: in five weeks I’ve written around 41,300 words. So in order to finish my novel, I’ve had to write one. Or, I should say, I finished the last novel of the trilogy–which this will be–by writing about 40% of the story. And that’s always one of those things that amazes me, because it doesn’t seem like I do a lot of writing every day, but in the end, when I figure out my word count for the novel and the word count for the blog–it adds up. Yesterday was about 2,800 words. Today will be . . . who knows? But for anyone wondering how many words they should write, all I can say is, write until it feels like you are done. Then, tomorrow, write some more.
The future may be uncertain, but if you write every day, eventually you’re going to get to the end.
It’s what we do after that really makes the future worth while.
