Last night's word count left a tantalising goal for today's writing session. All I needed to achieve was over 800 words and I would be up to 30,000 words in my manuscript... and now, consider it done! My word count tells me I am sitting on 30,010 words - big ones, small ones, all kinds of them. As I go on, it is getting harder. It should come as no surprise that some days the words don't flow as easily as they should. But I write anyway, having often read that 'you can't edit a blank page'.
Last week I printed out the first 26 pages, sitting down to edit them one quiet afternoon. There is much to work on, making sure dates add up (can't have a baby a few months old one minute, 6 the next and only three months old in the next chapter... it just doesn't work!) and that my descriptions of seasons match the timing, that characters are solid in their descriptions, all of those little details that add to the actual storytelling.
And still, there is that bubble of fear. Worrying that what I write won't be any good, that my children, when they are older, will talk about their crazy mother who wrote terrible stories, hoping that one day they would be published. Oh, Augusten, you have a lot to answer for!