Summary: Seth and Lars are drawn into the world of Arcanium after Seth makes a throwaway wish in front of the circus fortune teller, who decides Arcanium needs a little something extra in the ring. Seth and Lars are torn from their lives of intermural soccer, on-campus parties, and bright futures. Instead, Bell curses the two men to never separate, forced to remain in constant contact at all times.
Now they perform incredibly skilled and beautiful aerial acts for the circus, but these two otherwise straight men must also adjust to always touching – how to sleep together in the same small bed, how they never have any privacy, and how the curse alters the way they express and experience desire for others, like their choreographer and the Arcanium contortionist Valorie as well as conjoined twins Joanne and Jane.
And – to their chagrin and confusion – themselves.
Word count: 76,026/110,000
According to my strike-out outline of scenes to come, I have to finish this scene, then I have three additional scenes to tackle. My projection of 110k words is looking to be too long. What is wrong with me? I used to guess too short every time, and now on Carousel and Aerial I’ve guessed too long.
If I had to guess at this point, it’ll be closer to 90k, but even that’s fuzzy. I’m hurtling toward the climax of the novel, which in my experience doesn’t take up as much wordage as I usually expect.
I think it’s because of plot momentum doing its thing. I forget about plot momentum when I keep pausing for erotic interludes. I swear, there’s nothing else like erotica in literature for pausing forward momentum and that being just peachy to a reader. That’s why I compare erotica to musicals. Without all the sex interludes, my mainstream novels feel like bullet trains even though they tend to be longer.
I’m enjoying Aerial. Not quite to the level of Carousel, but that’s only because Carousel is a more fun book in general. Aerial has straight-man gay-sex angst, plus the curse of contact. So though the sex is made interesting around the boys’ limitations as well as the conjoined twins’ limitations, it’s hard to forget said limitations, you know?
Also, I think my word count quota tires me. Even when I’m fading, I still crank out the words in a numbed-out haze. I’m not drunk or anything. Just…streaming. It yields good results, just wears me out so that by the end of the day I’m ready to decompress.
That’s a job for you. And it’s a good thing, because it means I’m taking the work seriously in this in-between time of no legit work. When it comes to discipline, I gots it. That’s not a question for me anymore. It’s a matter of whether anyone wants to read my shit that will determine whether this is something I can make a go of as a rent-paying job. Don’t worry, I’m so fringe that I’m not holding my breath. I write what I love, and that often backfires. :)
But unlike your average job, this work is so deeply fulfilling I don’t mind the mental exhaustion (and part of it is allergies anyway). It’s the kind of tired you get after a good run, except in my head (because Miss Evans doesn’t run). It’s good for me. I’ll continue to do it as long as possible.
And the faster I get one written, the faster I can get the rest of my ideas written. No, I don’t sacrifice quantity for quality. The increased word counts are about taking up more of my time (writing for more hours) instead of compressing the word count into the same amount of time (writing more words per hour than before). So I spend most of the afternoon and night writing instead of just the afternoon or just the evening. That’s all.
As it is, with all the time in the world, I’m going to have managed two long novels in two months, plus a long novel (or serial) edit. Not too shabby for something that probably would have taken me three to three and a half months if I was working a real-world job at the same time. My window of free writing time looks to be closing soon, though. (Unless I need surgery. I never hope for that, and it’s entirely possible they won’t do the surgery in my case.)
That’s part of the reason I wanted to finish both novels so quickly in the first place – to get them out of the way before work starts gobbling up writing hours. I need the money, though. Unless some wealthy patron swoops out of nowhere, hands me fifty grand, and says, ‘Hey, Miss Evans, write anything you want for a year, no strings attached,’ I’m going to need a steady source of at least some income.
Know any wealthy patrons? If you did, you’d probably keep them for yourself, selfish bastard.
All right, I’m starting to type out of my ass, so it’s time to go to sleep, arise relatively refreshed, and start the next 5k words. I’m hoping to finish out this scene and get the climax scene started so that I can finish the book around Friday or Saturday.