100,000 Words Later…

I have been hard at work attempting to finish my next novel, which I am happy to report, just broke the 70,000 word mark.  As I’ve had little time for other writings, I have decided to turn this blog over to my husband for the week.  I hope you enjoy his perspective on the writing process.

Guest Written by: Cam Bone

In the beginning, she was just like everyone else.   But once it took over, she was no longer a normal human being.  She became…a writer.  I’ve attempted to chronicle the events as a warning to contain the spread.  I pray I am not too late.  I pray you never discover what happens

100,000 Words Later…

100 Words later…

The sun is shining, birds are singing.  The laughter of children can be heard over the jovial chatter of neighbors and the playful barking of dogs.  All seems right with the world.  My beautiful wife turns to me and says “I’ve got a a great idea for a story…”

1000 words later…

“How’s it going?” I ask, offering another beverage.  “Great,” she replies “the words are just flying off the page.”  I notice her rubbing her wrists.  I shrug it off as nothing.

3000 words later…

“…And then the evil queen is vanquished.” She’s been talking for half an hour straight.  There is an intensity in her eyes have not seen before.  I dismiss it as excitement.

5000 words later…

“Whoa, what the hell?” she exclaims, in a tone usually reserved for train derailments, A Kardashian in the White House, or a Game of Thrones death.  “Why did he do that?” she asks the non-existent fictional entity on her computer screen.  I look on in bewilderment.

10,000 words later…

I am awoken from a sound sleep with a rapid tapping on my shoulder. “Hey…Honey…HEY!!! I know where the next chapter goes.”  she then returns to sleep as though nothing happens.  I lay awake in confusion for the next few hours.

20,000 words later…

The clicking has grown in intensity over the last few hours.  The neighbors knock on the door to ask if we have a woodpecker.  I point to the feverish typing and the top of the head peeking over a laptop screen.  I accept their condolences.

35,000 words later…

“Honey,” I meekly ask “are you getting hungry yet?  How about some dinner?”  She looks up from her screen staring directly forward.  As the thought leaves her mind, she cranes her neck like a bird of prey.  She gives me a look that says “My name is Inego Montoya, you killed my great idea…prepare to die”

“WHAT?”  She dares.

I back away slowly.  What was I thinking?  We ate yesterday.

40,000 words later…

I decide to venture out for supplies.  “We need paper and coke,” the voice calls from the glow of the laptop screen.  I check my wallet.  We can afford it.  They say ramen tastes even better the second month in a row.

50,000 words later…

The pile of revised scenes and abandoned characters finally gave way and toppled on top of me.  After several hours I pull myself out.  I bandage my wounds with the revision of chapter 5.

60,000 words later…

The pounding on the other side of the bedroom door intensifies.  “But I just need your to read one more scene…just one.”  More pounding.  I slide bits of chocolate under the door until the pounding ceases and there is the sound of shuffling back to the computer.

75,000 words later…

Her eyes look up at me from the screen, the joy of life long faded.  Her fingers curl with arthritic frailty.  A rasp escapes her throat.  “Caffeine….Chocolate…LIQUOR…”  I give in and feed the writer all it needs to subsist now.

100,000 words later…

All is quiet.  The printer no longer screeches, it’s gears worn to the nub and the last drops of ink.  The clacking has finally ceased.  The glow of the laptop has dimmed.  She wanders the the apartment, shying away from natural light.  Confused, she shambles back to computer.  No matter how much she crafts, no matter how many words she prints, her hunger cannot be sated.  The writer will never stop now.

Let this be a warning to any left out there.  Protect your love ones.  Know the symptoms and be on your guard.