You know, I'm beginning to think I'm a nuclear writer. No, I don't write with nuclear energy. Instead, I seem to be stuck in some sort of half life model of reaching my goal. I make progress, but I keep worrying that I'm never going to actually make it to the end. I'll always keep going and going and going and going . . .
Well, that's not entirely true. But as of right now, I am nine days away from my third or fourth self-imposed deadline to finish Failstate and I am seriously worried that I will not make it again. Perhaps the title has become something of a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Progress is being made. Today I finished up what I call my "third crisis." Technically it's all downhill from here to the final confrontation and the resolution of the story. This week, I was able to add 6,229 words to Failstate, bringing the overall total to 92,446 words. I've already blown past my self-imposed limit of 80,000 words and I'm looking to overshoot the 100,000 words mark as well. Lots of cutting would appear to be in this story's future, and I think I know what (or more specifically, who) needs to go.
But I need to finish this behemoth first. Okay. Nine days. I can do this. I hope.
Oh, and if you don't get why I included the picture I did, well . . . never mind. Don't worry about it.