Why I prefer weekly goals

I’m working on a new story set on Jupiter’s moon Callisto. I did no pre-writing for this before the Clarion West write-a-thon, and it’s pretty research intensive. Of course, the research is giving me loads of ideas on where the story could go. But the fact remains, right now my daily word count is less than I would like, 1700 words until now for this week. But I have to take into consideration that I started a completely new story, brainstormed from scratch last Friday, and for some idiotic writerly reason, the idea that grabbed me was one where I had *no* research background.

But perhaps that’s part of the reason it grabbed me.

So perhaps my goal for this week will end up being forgiving myself for not reaching my word count or story completion goals. I might still find another project that can be finished in the meantime to still manage the story a week during Clarion, but even if I don’t, I have to be able to tackle a story that’s bigger than I can manage in only a week with my meager knowledge of astrophysics. One of the sticky notes on my monitor is a quote from Michael Swanwick, “Consider greatness as a career strategy.” And we can’t do that if we only write the stories that are easy to write in a week, or where we are always only thinking of daily word count.

Story #2 finished – ahead of time!

I’ve caught up with myself after the stomach flu last week, and finished my second story for the Clarion West Write-a-Thon in two days. Ok, “On Finding a Shoe” is short, coming in at only 1700 words, but still, those two days include the whole brainstorming and research phase, not like my Mars story, which also only took two days to write — but a month of research.

“On Finding a Shoe,” however, is definitely not a Nebula candidate. 🙂

“The Pool of Souls” finished

Finished my first story for the Clarion West Write-a-Thon, today, “The Pool of Souls” (well, at least the first draft). It comes in at just over 4000 words in its present incarnation. Here’s an excerpt:

Imila swirled the paper around in the pool, panning for ashes as she’d heard some men panned for gold in mountain streams. Flecks of souls eddied in the small vortex she created, circling around her hands as if trying to determine if this paper was meant for them. Imila watched in wonder as some of the silvery ashes detached themselves from the rest, coalescing in a shiny mass. She continued the circling movement, coaxing her daughter’s soul closer. Then the ashes caught in the rough texture, and the paper turned a shimmering bluish gray as it absorbed all that was left of Terya.