Having escaped the vile clutches of chapter twelve, our hero is now inching forward into previously uncharted territory with the Apocalypse Pictures Presents rewrite, logging about 1400 or so words. So sayeth Magic Meter:
It’s difficult to get an accurate count, because much of this is freshly drafted, but augmented with cut-and-pastes from the first pass. It’s a bit of a juggling act, really, stitching new and old material together. Chapter fourteen, for example, is being almost completely redone. I’ve saved the original chapter in a separate file, however—not being completely dim. So as I’m writing, I’m also flipping back to the deleted stuff, finding places to insert certain useful bits, and retooling them as needed.
So yeah. Kinda difficult, and slow going. But progress is being made. And does it feel good to be doing some drafting? Oh, yes, it does. Maybe I haven’t forgotten how to write yet.
A snippet:
It was most assuredly not about obsession, regret, the inability to let go of a dead past. It was not. No matter what the rest of them thought.
They had gotten scared, lost faith. But they would come back. It was meant to be. And they would figure out this current mess, finish shooting here, and move on.
He caught a faint whiff of smoke on the air, but ignored it. He had more important concerns.
Write club update: Giving up on a novel submission to an agent, after 6 months with no response. And that was on a requested full, too. Agents. Go figure.
Further into the unknown . . .
