Tuesday, August 26, 2014

The 70K Blues

I've hit 70K words on my current work-in-progress, which should be a very happy time. The denouement is almost upon me! I know exactly what is happening, because most of it has already happened! Good times, RIGHT?!

Sigh. This is also the time in the manuscript when I think the whole thing is bunk and will never sell.

I have a lot of work to do upon the first edit. I have a disabled character--she's such a badass lady. I've been working with a doctor friend to get the details right, and I'm about to start a search for a consultant who might let me interview her to gain insight about her experiences. But what if I screw up the whole thing, and it's an offensive mess? Aaaahhhhh!

My heroine is infertile, and I've read romance readers bashing infertile heroines before. "Drama queen," "get over it," etc. Ugh. It's not just romance readers; the world is hell for a woman who doesn't fulfill her "womanly purpose" of having babies, as if we're little more than walking egg sacs. Have I explained the horrors of infertility well enough? Gently enough? Can I make an audience built largely of mothers understand the grief of a woman who tried, but failed, to enter their amazing club? Aaaahhhhh!

Is there an audience for this book? It's about lady superheroines. The alpha men are secondary to the amazing women. Is there a place for that kind of book? And a funny one? So many people mistake "funny" for just "silly" with no point. I always include themes of women leaning to rely on themselves, of women saving themselves in romance, and it's so important to me. Have I conveyed these themes well enough? Will anyone get it?  Aaaahhhhh!

It comforts me to know that all writers go through this angst.  (If you're a writer who's never felt this, I'd like to know what pills you're on, thanks.)

I know the only thing to do is to keep on, keep writing, keep perfecting, keep researching, keep my heart open so that I can spill compassion on the page.

But first I'll say, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" and inhale a pizza.


  1. I'm on pills, and I've still been there!

    You've been here before and survived. You can do it again:-) The story sounds awesome.


    1. Thanks, Jessi. I'm glad my misery has company. That kinda makes me a jerk, huh? :)

  2. I'd read that. Which is probably a bad thing, heh.

    1. Right? My meter on what's too weird is nonexistent. I run things by my husband, who is a Normal, but fun. Fun Normal. I am Fun Weird.