So tonight, I finally finished my first rough draft of a manuscript. And it’s entirely unexpected as the idea for this novel was largely pantsed from a prompt from Reedsy. Specifically, this prompt from Reedsy:
Write a story that includes the lines “Why should I believe you?” or “Give me one good reason to trust you.”
Reedsy
When I read that prompt, I started working on a short story to meet the prompt… but then, I saw that I could turn this into an actual novel. The chase turned into the dream sequences that preceded my main character’s decision to accept their True Will and embrace true freedom.
By the numbers
So, this manuscript came out to 88,626 words and the PDF came out to be 351 pages long. I’m not exactly sure how the hell Scrivener estimates my page count for the paperback to be lower than the manuscript count, but that’s one of those things that I’m going to need to learn more about with Scrivener. And I wrote most of this novel on my Hemingwrite, as the word streak from my Postbox account was 64,454 words written solely on my Hemingwrite, with the rest probably written in Scrivener itself as I was editing it and fleshing out certain scenes.
A sample from my rough draft
So, here’s a sample from the rough draft of my novel.
I lay out my clothes for the visit to the jail. I'd like to say that I had a powerful pantsuit to really girl boss it up, but honestly... I just want to be unapologetically feminine. I feel that this is the tone I want to set. That at the end of the day, he couldn't beat or threaten or cajole me into being a "boy" or "male" or any of that nonsense. That I am me and I am free to be me.
I pick my pinkest, most feminine outfit. Think Reese Witherspoon's character from Legally Blonde and you've got the idea of my fashion motif for this visit to the jail.
Élodie... is quiet. "You know," I say, barely holding back tears. "my father trying to kill me... that doesn't surprise me as much as you disappearing." I sniffle. "I really wish I could save you."
"I know." She doesn't even bother to manifest herself. I just hear her voice in my head, like a conscience. A really fucked up, perverted, maniacal conscience.
"I can still manifest myself." She clarifies. "It's just getting harder and harder to do and I don't know when the last time is going to be. I'm... sorry."
"I know it's not your fault." I say, not even bothering to fight back tears anymore. "I know you're doing your best. But I just... don't want to lose you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Even if this is the end, know that you're not alone. You have a close group of friends you've known for years and you're building new ones. Just, please... promise me you'll continue the Great Work. Promise me you'll keep your promises."
"I will. We're going up to Sprague Lake tomorrow after the jail. I'm meeting Max downtown and he's borrowing his dad's car. I won't let you down."
"If there's one last teaching moment I can give you going into tomorrow, it's this. Your father is gone now. He's a man behind glass. He's so deep within the system that he'll never taste free air again. Don't let him be the monster you remember. Don't give him that power to crush your Will. Let him be what he is. Tiny. Insignificant. Alone."
"I will.", I promise. I'm not sure if she heard me or not. All of a sudden, I feel... alone. But I press on to bed. I promised Élodie I wouldn't let my father lord himself over me. He does not get to win. Not this time. Not this fucking time.
If Élodie is truly gone, I'll mourn her at Sprague Lake tomorrow.
... Tomorrow.
Fuck.
This may not be the last chapter in the novel, but it’s the last chapter I wound up writing but holy shit, it felt like a pretty damn good way to end the manuscript. Very cathartic. But when I was writing this last tableau of this chapter, I felt an amazing sense of awe at this being the last bit of my novel to write.
So, what’s next?
Stephen King wrote in his book, On Writing, that a person should set their novel aside for six weeks so that they can read it with fresh eyes. And it’s tough setting my own novel down for a little while, so I’m starting to see the need to do so. I need to create some distance from this story so I can read it through the eyes of a reader and be a bit more merciless when editing my own work with a red pen.
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