WIPmarathon Check-in #2

It’s been a wonderfully productive week and my word count has soared! I’ve almost reached my August word count goal! I couldn’t have done it without all the support and encouragement from the #WIPmarathon team, that’s for sure!

Here’s my second check-in for the August WIP marathon

Previous word count: 15, 717

Current word count: 26, 902

Chapter count: 13

WIP Issues this week: I had a bit of a wobble where I felt like I’d written myself into a corner and didn’t know how to proceed. As a pantser, that happens fairly often and yet I still manage to panic and contemplate hitting shift+delete when I just need to take a step back and think. Thanks to Ifeoma’s muse dust, I managed to solve the problem and soldiered on past the 25k mark.

What I learnt this week in writing: To stay inspired I need to remember why I wanted to tell this story in the first place. Going back to that original seed of inspiration, that original ‘what if’ has helped steer my course and I hope it’s what’s going to get me through the muddle middle I now find myself in. I also found some fantastic art this week that has gone a long way to help me stay motivated. I posted these on twitter, but in case you missed them…



What distracted me this week while writing: I went back to my main job this week, teaching middle graders music and dance. That has been a major distraction, but a welcome one. I have a mostly lovely bunch of students this year and I’m looking forward to the challenge of teaching 14yr old boys to dance. I’ve just got to learn to balance my three jobs with writing.

Last 200 words: Another action ending – might be a bit confusing without the context, but thought I’d share it anyway…

“Go.” Flint jerks his head for Crow and I to vault the fence. Crow gives me a boost before clambering up behind me. I drop down the other side as Crow perches between the vicious spikes of the fence and hauls Tempest’s limp body up and over before easing her down to me. She seems so much smaller without her scowl and foul mouth, the most intimidating thing about her unconscious body being her blood red boots.

Darts ping off the fence, one snaking through the slats to land less than an inch from my foot.

“Run, Raleigh!” Crow rolls to his feet. Flint scoops Tempest out of my arms without missing a step and I’m left bringing up the rear as they burst into a sprint. Every breath burns in my lungs as adrenaline sends my heart into over-drive. As I run, my path becomes clear. There’s no turning back now, no wondering what if, only the absolute certainty that I’ll do whatever it takes to save that crew, the men and women who trusted me to wake up and bring them out of stasis. I couldn’t save Weston and maybe I won’t be able to save myself, but I won’t let my crew down, I won’t let Crow die because of me.

What do you think? Still interested in the story?

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