This week has been an Exciting one. First, as I mentioned in my last post, I far exceeded my Camp NaNoWriMo goal for the month (30,000 words), having written 44,576 words of the first draft of Cast Into the Deep Sea of Stars in April, bringing my total so far to more than 100,000 words. And then the second exciting thing happened: I woke up one morning with the realization that the first novel of my Sancta Futura series really needed to be two novels.
So I've been getting used the fact that I've finished my draft of Cast Out. It's exhilarating! and I owe it all to my clever, subconscious mind, which worked out that I really had two plot arcs squashed together end-on-end. Like the mother of conjoined twins, it took me awhile to convince myself that separating them really would be best for everyone involved. Now, I'll admit that this idea probably occurred to me first because I was nervous about producing what looked like it was going to be a 175,000 word behemoth, and also because I just wanted to be done with the draft (having set a deadline of May 23, my birthday). But once I started rethinking the plot arc of the first book (which ends with chapter 12, the one I just wrote), it became clear that the first book is all about my protagonist figuring out that, hard as it was for her to give up so much of her past, the loss really made possible -- maybe even necessary -- a much more exciting future.
Not only that, but it meant that in the second book (which I've already got pretty well plotted out) I will be able to focus on developing twin story lines in which personal difficulties will parallel difficulties in the planetary settlement group she and her new husband have just joined. And having more time to work on interpersonal dynamics among a cast of characters that will mushroom in book two means that I'll also be able to give attention to an emerging situation that will dominate book three.
Read more » So I've been getting used the fact that I've finished my draft of Cast Out. It's exhilarating! and I owe it all to my clever, subconscious mind, which worked out that I really had two plot arcs squashed together end-on-end. Like the mother of conjoined twins, it took me awhile to convince myself that separating them really would be best for everyone involved. Now, I'll admit that this idea probably occurred to me first because I was nervous about producing what looked like it was going to be a 175,000 word behemoth, and also because I just wanted to be done with the draft (having set a deadline of May 23, my birthday). But once I started rethinking the plot arc of the first book (which ends with chapter 12, the one I just wrote), it became clear that the first book is all about my protagonist figuring out that, hard as it was for her to give up so much of her past, the loss really made possible -- maybe even necessary -- a much more exciting future.
Not only that, but it meant that in the second book (which I've already got pretty well plotted out) I will be able to focus on developing twin story lines in which personal difficulties will parallel difficulties in the planetary settlement group she and her new husband have just joined. And having more time to work on interpersonal dynamics among a cast of characters that will mushroom in book two means that I'll also be able to give attention to an emerging situation that will dominate book three.
