FIFTY. THOUSAND. WORDS.

I have hit it. There it is.

Holy cow, y'all.

I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to. But thanks to my outlines, my spreadsheet, and an incredibly supportive Hubby, I am there.

NUMFAR. DO THE DANCE OF JOY.

My tweets

• Sat, 12:19: PRESENT TENSE PRESENT TENSE PRESENT FREAKING TENSE AAAAAAAH. #somuchhate
• Sat, 12:25: And it only took 4700 words to hit my first pinch. *headdesk* This one was supposed to be SHORT. #wellitsnot #amwriting #overmyhead
• Sat, 13:08: Monday's Actual Goal now done. 800 to go to today's Bonus #1. Protag just realized he did something rather stupid. #amwriting
• Sat, 14:08: ...just now realized I need a way to put my lady ghost in jeopardy via my draugr. So that's awesome. #headdesk #amwriting
• Sat, 14:22: Once I stick an END at the bottom of this one, I call this part of the project Done. It will more than give me 50K, and I'm itching to edit.
• Sat, 14:48: Dear tweeps: If I don't know u, and u give me nothing but a URL, and it appears that's all you're doing to everyone, I'll report u 4 spam.
• Sat, 15:58: There's Bonus Goal #1 AND Wednesday's Technical Goal in the can. 48400 total and at the midpoint of this story, which is at 5900. WHEE.
• Sat, 22:16: Writing Buddy liked Angry Bitter Angel story even though I basically gave him a raw first draft. Now if I can whack it down to 17K words...
• Sat, 22:36: Bonus Goal #2 done. 49,000 words since Jan 1. #holycrap #amwriting
• Sat, 22:53: And there's Tuesday's Actual Goal, and 49,300 words. Story is actually flowing right now. Apparently decaf works. Or food. Something.
• Sun, 10:48: Welp. Outline is a shambles. I'm okay with that, though. Next time, figure out what monster IS, THEN outline. Duh. #amwriting
• Sun, 11:37: FIFTY. THOUSAND. WORDS.… http://t.co/nGhFaYRj

Have a snippet!

In celebration of my 50,000 words:

Petersson howls again. I've barely scrambled to my knees before he hits me once more, from behind this time, and I sprawl onto my face, my hands convulsively clutching the doll and the tool. A pair of giant hooves smash onto my back, and I have no idea how it's not busted in half by the impact. I brace, and roll, and it misses, squealing with rage.

Well, this was a terrible idea, I think muzzily. What had the plan been? Had there even been a plan? Surely I went into this with a plan. . .

Doll. The doll. Something with the damned doll, what--

Oh. Dumbass. I roll again, making it upright this time, and fling the doll with all my might into the graveyard. "Go fetch," I wheeze, and for a wonder it does.

The post. Where's the fucking post? I'm hurt and disoriented, but if I don't finish the sigil, Petersson will just come out and finish me. I catch sight of the flashlight on the ground, and if it's where I left it then it should be right in front of the center post. Next time I do the last sigil on a corner post. Easier to find. I'm free-associating, but I'm also crawling determinedly in that direction.

I get to it, there's the sigil, one more line, oops, better turn the etcher on first, that works better, and Petersson's charging out of the fog again, this time as the skinned ox, and I finish the rune just as he hits the fence--

And bounces off, screaming that scream that gets right into the insanity center of my brain.

Yeah, it's a very rough first draft, but. There you go. Context is for the weak.