Is it possible to starting thinking that when you’re approaching sixty thousand words and you’re still in Chapter Five, that maybe you should start considering where you’re going to cut the sucker up?
I’m not at that point yet, but it’s getting there. I’ve four scenes left in this chapter–though I’m already considering cutting two because they may or may not be necessary–and then it’s on to Part Three, Chapter Six, and the first week of school . . . and I’ll be sitting around sixty-five thousand words then. Hey, no one ever said these things happen quickly. Hey, the novel is made in the editing, right? Just write it out and chop it then.
Last night I reached a point in my story where I’ve started introducing strange things. Strange as in one of my main characters doesn’t believe these things should happen, but he’ll keep an open mind on it. See, this where where I put all the stuff behind that I believe and dip the toe into the fantasy pool and write things that shouldn’t be, because that’s what writers do: they make shit up.
With that in mind, I did this:
Cold. It was so cold. Kerry watched chunks of ice drift away to his left as he scanned the far shore of the river, a couple, maybe three kilometers distant. No people were, nor were there buildings—nothing but frozen shoreline and hundreds of trees.
That wasn’t true about the place where he stood. There were remnants of structures all around him, crumbling foundations half-buried in snow and tundra. To his right were the crumbling spans of a bridge leading to a small island a few hundred meters off-shore. Those were the only indications that people once lived her, however. All else was history: no docks, no roads, no power, no water save the slowly flowing, semi-frozen river.
He was alone.
Except . . .
He heard movement to his left. He turned slowly, feeling the weight of a pack on his back and something else in his left hand. A person was walking towards him, covered head to toe in white clothing designed for a not-so-average winter. They, too, carried a large pack on their back and something long and black in their right hand. There was a pair of goggles pushed up onto their forehead and their lower face was covered by a balaclava, leaving their bright gray eyes outlined by the fur of their parka hood.
The other person spoke; it was only then Kerry realized the person with him was a girl. “What is this place?”
That is a vision, something that happened because of–well, tea. And he had and answer for the question asked, but that isn’t the above vision, so you have to wait for the book to come out to find out what he said. Sure, I know, but that’s my job to know, because I’m the one who put the thought in his head.
I love the scene I’m writing at the moment. There are a few things left to do, then I want to go dark for a bit, then talk some truths between my main characters.
Then I get my kiddies to school. No, really, it’s time for classes.
Has been for a while.