Monday, March 25, 2013

Writing retreat Day 7: Depression sinks in

The last time I did a 10-day writing retreat, I wrote about 17,500 words in seven days to complete a first draft of Awakening. I didn't even need the last three days for writing; I'd finished early.

Seven days into this retreat I have produced a *whopping* 601 words so far. So. Fucking. Depressing.

I could give you all kinds of reasons--such as that I haven't actually been able to leave work entirely behind, now that I'm a freelancer; or that it seems to take me a long time to get my head into this book, and by the time I've managed to write a hundred or so words, a couple hours have passed and it's already time to move onto the next thing--but the fact remains that I am freaking out about being no where near done with a first draft of Awakening 2.

If I am going to make my July 1 self-imposed deadline for publishing Awakening 2, then I have at most one more month to whip out the first draft of this sucker. I have three days left of my so-called writing retreat. I need a plan. For serious. I'll see how much I get done in these last three days and go from there.

Here is this week's excerpt from Awakening 2:

Whisper. Creak. STOMP! STOMP! Brriiigghhh! Rustle. Fabric rubbing on the top of her shoulder. Smell of moldy hay. Earth moving. Grain of dirt falls against its peers. Smell of grass. Bone against rope. Swoosh. Flap flap flap. A bird calls. Scent of lemon. Chuck-chuck-chuck. Hair tickling her forehead. Cool breeze touches her cheek. All widows are closed. Chest rising & falling twitches the fabric at her sides. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Very close, right on top of her. Hurrkkk. Gurgle. Squeak. Eh-er-eh-er. Eyes hurt. Floor hard, pushing up on her skin going to leave a bruise. Lips stick together. Feathers poke. Something small & light knocks against something larger than itself. Tick-tick-tick – rain on leaves. Churgh. Clomp. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Lilly?” Torren’s voice: soft, silk whispering against rock.

Click. Whushushushush—creak—shushush.


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