Peeking into the rock

Again a couple days of not posting where I actually wrote stuff. But this morning I wrote 1500 words before breakfast. On not-Poland. It was easy. And Yanek made a decision, and the chapter is finished, and there are two chapters to go before I get to go back and rework everything to make sure it all makes sense and that the same terminology is used all the way through and also to make sure that the chornology is correct and that the direction of things is consistent (consistent enough, I mean).

I'm looking forward to it.

I had a really lovely conversation with personheadblueghostghost about the way my stories end (or don't, actually), and it caused me to finally see something I might be able to do to fix that problem -- which sounds like a non-revelation when I say "take more time at the end, and after it" but it is, because I've been operating on a different principle and while I could see I wasn't getting the ends squared away right, I didn't realize  -- somehow, and I guess the density of my brain is quite variable -- that the principle itself was the problem. My idea is that once the initial and secondary issues are resolved, the story loses its interest -- and while I do know that stories need a cool-down period, I've always been reluctant to impose on the readers' good nature after that point. So imagine a very shy person who's built up all their courage to tell you the story of their life to now, or to relate the exciting events of the recent revolution, who gets to a certain point, and then suddenly says, "well, so, um, that's it, I guess, I won't trouble you any more," and they flit out the door before you can even ask them "But what happened to the guy with the carnation?"

So I'm not going to be that person in this book at least. Even if it means I have to write another chapter beyond what I am planning to write.

On another front, Truffle's evening agenda last night appeared to be a walk of Yummy Well-Scented Indefinite Doom: if I had let her determine the entire walk, I don't know if we'd have gotten home before midnight. After a while I determined that we had to go home anyway. She actually argued with me about it. The reason this is news is that some months ago I was lucky to convince her to go around the block every other day.  I don't know what has changed, except that I've been initating stronger and more strenuous walks myself.

I forgot to do this the last three days, but since I last posted my progress I wrote 2649 words on chapter 32 and 2438 words on chapter 33, which leaves me at about two and a half chapters util the end of the draft unless it takes longer to do all the things I need to do before the story is over.

Ongoing writing anxieties are still the same: why are these people suddenly so chatty? is this part necessary or interesting? what am I forgetting? does anybody care about this? why am I even?

things I am happy about: I remembered some stuff that connects nicely. I am pleased with the littlest sister's personality showing through. Also I think that Sasha's behavior makes sense. And I think I might have got the right mix of defiance and terror for Yanek.

I'm not that bothered by all the things I'm doing now which will necessitate changes in the early parts of the book. I'm pretty sure that the changes will not create more problems than they solve. I'm kind iof looking forward to going back and making all the changes (for one thing, it will mean that the draft is done, which will be a huge milestone!)

In case it's not obvious why I post "plink" threads instead of "thud" threads -- oh, I'm sure it's obvious, I'm going to shut up.

I realize that I started this journal to keep track of my writing progress, but I've been using it mainly to complain. But I have been writing and writing all along.

So, this is what I did today:

Words today: 1019
Chapter  32 wordage: 2182
Total wordage (estimated as I have not been bothered to set up the master document or write down accumulated words): 170K
Estimated till the end of the draft: 3 more chapters? 15 K more words?

Writing anxiety of the day: All novel long these guys have been terse and uncommunicative.  Suddenly they're talking and talking and talking. Too much dialog? Is it in character? Is anything they ever do in character? Am I in character? Who am I? What am I?

happy little details of the day: workers talking about the strike in the same coal mines Yanek's unit was supposed to be protecting during the war, and which are owned by the relatives that disowned him before birth; and the beer being the same brand as I referenced in the green people story set in the same place a hundred years later.

Tomorrow: more goddmaned angsty dialog. Maybe some action on the factory floor.

On another front, I punted and put the violetta and violetto (yes, those are their names) artichoke plants into large pots for now, meaning that I transplanted some oregano and moved some freesia bulbs. I know it's not the time of year for the bulbs, but screw it.

Also: neighbor had a baby so I took their dog for a walk.

And: I tasted my horseradish leaves (raw) and they are kind of like arugula, not very much like the roots at all.