What I'm Writing: NaNoWriMo Week Three Update

This week in the wonderful world of writing-frenzy, I'm struggling a little.

I'm a few thousand words behind word count. I mean, not to the point that it's going to be impossible to catch up, but still. I'm behind.

And it's all because I think I've written my poor little characters into a corner that I am not a fan of, and I'm not quite sure how to get them out of it without GOING BACK and REVISING which are kind of the only NaNo-NoNos.

So. That.

And the only other way I can see getting the out of this stupid, pointy corner is to change the ending I've conceived of all along.

I am loath to do that.

When I started this, I had a very specific vision of the ending. It was going to be spectacular and breathtaking and leave my eventual-readers going "Oh!" But not in a cliffhanger-way. This was going to be in a "I-can't-believe-she-did-that" kind of way. And I was all excited about it. The ending was what was really going to make this book different and leave every pub house IN THE WORLD clamoring to buy it up.*

And now I think I have to change it. Or go back and revise. Or something.

*headdesk*

So those are my writing woes for this week. Hopefully after going to brunch and getting day drunk and then seeing Breaking Dawn will give me some INSPIRATION. *grins*


And, for those of you who have any sort of interest in what my crazy draft-writing contains, here is your snippet for the week (Be warned! There are probs typos/word-choice issues. You may judge, just don't judge too harshly.):

As I turned to go to the register, I ran into a person. I still had my headphones in, so I mumbled an apology without looking up and kept making my way to the front of store. But I realized I wasn’t going very far since the person I ran into had grabbed my hand, which was highly weird. With my free hand I yanked the headphones out of my ears and whipped around, trying all the while to free my enslaved hand.

 “Um, please let go of . . . ” my words trailed off as my brain recognized the person I was looking at. Then I picked up again with, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” If there was ever any doubt I was a New Yorker through and through, it was all lost with that exclamation. 

©Bethany Larson, 2011

*I do not know if this is going to happen as I am not any sort of oracle or psychic. If I were, this whole writing a book endeavor would probably be MUCH EASIER.