On Powering Through

I have decided that I’m going to power through finishing THE UNDERGROUND EMPIRE OF JOSEPH WUNDERKIND.  It means that the final manuscript (not that a first draft is in any way final, though I often feel like it is) will top just over 70K words, which makes it my shortest novel so far.  GOD’S TEETH was 80K and THE DREAM THIEF ended at 90K.  I’m just happy that I’ve met the minimum length for young adult fiction (which is roundabout 55K).

So I’m powering through finishing the novel with only slight breaks for distractions.  Today, that distraction includes writing this blog post.  Yesterday, it included playing Samorost 2.

Samorost 2

I’d actually played this game through before, but didn’t remember it.  I bought it as part of last year’s Humble Indie Bundle, a collection of games you could buy at whatever price you wanted.  You could also decide how much of the money you spent would go to the developers and how much would go to the charities they were sponsoring.  It was an awesome idea, though Samorost 2 is only the second game I’ve played through enough to review, and well worth the money.

Samorost 2 is amazing in its artistic display and frustrating (though in a pleasant way) in its puzzles, especially because there’s really no way to go wrong.  The game is a point-and-click adventure, and you’re pretty much limited to clicking only on things that can be directly manipulated, and must be manipulated, in order to advance the game.  In many ways, it’s much more of an interactive cartoon than it is a game.  It’s so endlessly charming, though, that you should take the opportunity to interact.

Do so here.

So, I did that.

Then I sat around and stared at the computer.  Because the A/C is out at the apartment, we spent hours at Black Hole yesterday and are spending hours here today, which is a great way to force oneself to write (for those looking for tips).

In some way, I feel like the A/C going out has been a blessing because I have been stalling, stalling, stalling on writing, writing, writing.  I’ve been afraid of ending the book.  I’ve been afraid that what I’ll write will crash and burn the whole affair.

But the truth is that if I crash the novel, I can always rebuild it anew.  It’s fear that stops most projects from ever being completed, and fear isn’t a good reason to give up (even if I call that giving up by another name: stalling).

So here I am, listening to Dar Williams and signing off from all you eyes out on the internet.  The next time you hear from me, the book will be done and done.  Badly or well, I don’t deign to say, but it will be complete.

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