sit down, dear, we’ve got to talk
Track of the Day: “Slipping Husband” (The National — I’m so predictable, aren’t I?)
Tessellate Count: 51,907
I’m absurdly busy being an honors student at an ivy league university at the moment, so I can’t write too much here tonight. There are, however, two things I want to say.
First. I’ve just finished Chapter 15. According to the revised plan, this places me approximately 10k from the end of the novel. Just three more theoretically 3k chapters (which really means at least 3.3k apiece). Then, I’ll have finished my ninth novel, also known as the epic mistake in non-genre contemporary fic that is WAY too personal. I’m never going to make that combination of mistakes ever again. Basically, if I can finish this in the next week, I’ll be very, very happy. Then I can move onto better things (such as s&w) or at least things that result in money (such as NG).
Second. I actually did figure out what the major problem is with Tessellate. (Possibly, this is my problem with non-genre contemporary fic as a genre.) Nothing really happens. It’s just a series of conversations. People talk about their feelings or things that happened in the past or crap that’s going on offscreen. But the most exciting things to actually happen are panic attacks (which is kind of pathetic). No one’s chasing criminals or running off to join secret resistance movements or assassinating the president with a travelling shovel of death. No, they just go to various coffee shops / couches / depressing corners and listen to their iPods and sip their drinks oh so delicately and talk. (My characters sound like hipsters now, don’t they?) Oh god. It’s clear, isn’t it, that I’m not just talking about fiction, isn’t it? I’m talking about life.
And I’m (just so fucking) bored.
