Today I reached 73,000 words in my manuscript that will be about 80,000 words.
(This is the sequel to THE SECRET LIFE OF BECKY MILLER, which I've been working on since April).
I've been mulling marathon metaphors, and picturing those poor exhausted runners who can barely drag themselves the last few yards. I can relate.
I'm also feeling the way I used to when I took ballet classes. I tended to work full-out at the barre, go for maximum height in every jump, and the longest possible line of every extension. But then after an hour and-a-half of intense work, it would be time for across-the-floor combinations. Huge sweeping movement, enormous traveling jumps. And my legs had become rubber.
So I'm hoping I saved enough energy for the finish line. I'm hoping the story will make sense. I'm hoping that readers will feel that wonderful sense of satisfaction as all the plot threads pull together and the protagonist faces her big crisis.
And I'm thinking that although this finish line matters to me, I'm aiming for a much more exciting finish line.
(See Hebrews 12:1-3) Happy running!
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