#WIPWednesday is a weekly meme I started to update on how my WIP is going every week. Anyone can join if they want to!
WIP: I Chose the Monster
Writing or Revising: Revising
Progress Since Last Week: Edited one (very short) chapter. Did a couple more pages of brainstorming.
How It’s Going:
I just posted my #WIPMarathon post a couple days ago so I guess there’s not much to update since then. I was kind of freaking out last week, but at this point I’ve calmed down a little. Right now I think I need to just focus on doing some light edits and getting my chapters out to my two CPs, who have been very patient and honest with me!
As for the heavier edits, that’s what I’m still brainstorming about. There are some major changes I want to make to the story, but I think I’ll save those for later. For now, I think I should focus on the smaller things and continue from there.
Goals For Next Week:
- Edit another two chapters or so.
- Continue brainstorming for future rewrites.
- Finish re-reading The Resurrectionists (my NaNo ’15 novel)––I’m thinking about continuing it sometime soon, but I need a bit of a refresher. 😛
#WIPpetWednesday is a meme started by Emily at A Keyboard and an Open Mind. Every Wednesday, writers share an excerpt from their WIP that relates to today’s date somehow.
Today is 3/2/16. 3 + 6 + 16 = 21, so here are 21 sentences:
Back to the window. My parents are gone, and the only person who remains is the man in the white uniform. The glare of the white room is reflected in his glasses, erasing his eyes. His mouth is set in a straight line––unmoving, unfeeling.
Distantly, I hear myself still screaming. The cries for my parents give way to a torrent of curses. Cursing the man on the other side of the window. Cursing this place, these people. No insult is strong enough. Nothing releases the worsening knot of pain in my chest.
Exhausted and breathless, I crumple to my knees. The knuckles on my right hand blaze with pain, and dark bruises have already begun to form on the ridges. The world narrows, until the ugly blemishes consume my vision.
Bruises––like the ones that must be forming on my spine at this very moment. Like the ones that appeared on Eve’s back, one month before she died.
“I’m sorry,” the man says at last. “I know it’s an impossible choice. But I must ask you to make a decision.”
Fire runs in my veins. Flames thrash inside my skull. The answer is lodged in my throat––a lump I can’t swallow.
How about you guys?
- How are those WIPs going? Any progress this week? Any goals for next week?
- If you also posted a WIPpet, feel free to link me to it!