(no subject)

I heard someone say that you're not a real writer unless your characters surprise you from time to time.

That's probably not true, if only because there are some excellent writers of non-fiction out there who deserve the appellation "real writer".

But it happened today.

Another thing happened. Back in December, I promised a friend I'd write a personalized story for a child, as a raffle prize. I expected it to be a young child, 4-8 years old, where a short, simple story would do. One weekend for a cute story, maybe 2-4,000 words, with the kid's name, maybe the child's pet's name, mention of a hobby or a school project, and a few other identifying features strewn throughout.

The story ended up being for a 12 year old boy who's got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and quite a mature outlook.

And tonight - well, "last night", now - and 23,000 words later, I've completed the first draft.

And yeah... a few surprises.

I hope it's good. But, at long last, I can relax a bit, do some rapid editing (I hope to ditch my editor hat once I fill in the parts I need to fill in and cut the parts that I realize don't belong), and then get on with life. This has taken four weeks, and ended up causing me to restart Wellbutrin. Not a bad thing, but a much bigger part of my life than I expected.

(no subject)

I heard someone say that you're not a real writer unless your characters surprise you from time to time.

That's probably not true, if only because there are some excellent writers of non-fiction out there who deserve the appellation "real writer".

But it happened today.

Another thing happened. Back in December, I promised a friend I'd write a personalized story for a child, as a raffle prize. I expected it to be a young child, 4-8 years old, where a short, simple story would do. One weekend for a cute story, maybe 2-4,000 words, with the kid's name, maybe the child's pet's name, mention of a hobby or a school project, and a few other identifying features strewn throughout.

The story ended up being for a 12 year old boy who's got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and quite a mature outlook.

And tonight - well, "last night", now - and 23,000 words later, I've completed the first draft.

And yeah... a few surprises.

I hope it's good. But, at long last, I can relax a bit, do some rapid editing (I hope to ditch my editor hat once I fill in the parts I need to fill in and cut the parts that I realize don't belong), and then get on with life. This has taken four weeks, and ended up causing me to restart Wellbutrin. Not a bad thing, but a much bigger part of my life than I expected.