I didn't see this until today...

Brandon Sanderson's thoughts on Robert Jordan

53,000 words and I've hit a snag. It may have been my utter exhaustion last night (does anyone else get suddenly tired when they start a diet?), or it may have been that I'm not satisfied with where the novel is going right now. I will not know exactly which one it was until I wake up and spend some more time gazing at the last two chapters, which won't be until I finish 4 papers that are due Friday.

I was just reading a few things on the 2006 Orson Scott Card bootcamp forum. Someone was mentioning how they just got to chapter 42 of their novel and they have to figure out a new ending because the one they had originally no longer works.

I'm curious, once I reach the point of writing the climax and ending, how things will have worked out. I don't think that I'll have that exact problem: I don't actually structure the novel, nor do I have more than a single sentence summary of the ending played out in my head.

I'm sure I'll have my share of problems. I'm hitting snags already at 53,000 words, even though I don't know yet what the damage will be. I'll be sure to let you know when I do.

In other news, the artist formerly known as Bookstore Guy Steve has dropped off the face of the Earth. I can't seem to find him anywhere. So he's either changed his email or decided he doesn't like me anymore. If anyone sees him, let me know.

In other, other news, I can't find my copy of Gardens of the Moon. I think I lent it to someone. If it was you, I would appreciate it back.

I come on here once in a while to say that I'm not getting anything done, or that I'm making minutiae progress. It may seem like a bit of a drag to the those of you who still look at my blog, but let me tell you:

It is.

For me, that is. I want to begin a rant about how I'm supposed to be going to school to learn a vocation and yet I spend all my time taking tests and studying crap nobody actually reads (see Nathaniel Hawthorne, Jonathan Edwards, and anybody with the last name of Dickinson, Rossetti, or Bronte). But that is the curse of an English Major. Besides, I just snuck that rant into a single sentence, without you even noticing, so why should I make it longer?

And Michele's car just broke. So we are running on no wheels, circa 6 million A.D. and the Flintstones. And, like the Flintstones, we have no paper or electronic money. Just a mason jar full of pennies, with the odd dime and nickel. I picked out all the quarters this morning for our lunch.


So you want to be a writer, huh? Poor bastard...

Here's something to keep you occupied for hours.