I finally reached the 100,000 word mark on Bad Apple Bone. 100,002 to be exact. I knew I was approaching it, so after an evening of dodgy writing I randomly stopped and did a word count (er, not manually, you understand) and BING! It was 100,000 words, dead on! There was much excited jumping about for a bit and clinking of imaginary champagne glasses (sadly). It probably says a lot about my writing process that I could only think of a further 2 words for the rest of the night.
The mind boggles at such a number. I vividly remember reaching the 10,000 word mark, and being all dead impressed with myself because, I think, my dissertation was around that long. My smugness ended when I realised I would have to write around 10 times that to get to the end of my book.
And at the end of my book, I am not. At least, not yet. It still twinkles in the near distance, like a shiny American diner all full of hot breakfasts and exciting milkshakes on the desert road of my writing journey. Or something. Emotionally, I am about one and a half chapters away from the end. Technically, I am one and a half chapters and a few-bits-and-pieces-I-left-out away from finishing, which is a little frustrating but entirely my own fault; part of the fun of writing Bad Apple Bone has been that I’ve been learning how I write as I go along, and one of the things I found out is that I sometimes like to write with no regard for chronological order. Marty will point out that I often read this way, too.
So this is my plan. At the weekend I have a sort-of free Saturday, and if I am good and disciplined, it is possible I could push myself over the finishing line. Write my little socks off.
Bad Apple Bone, finished, after two years. It’s almost as unimaginable as reaching 100,000 words!