It’s a quiet night. The kids are tucked into bed. My wife is upstairs reading a novel, and I’m downstairs contemplating a bowl of ice cream before we watch a rented flick. Tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll be preaching on trusting each other. The thrust of my message is that we can pretty much trust each other to mess up in our relationships, but we should choose to be vulnerable anyway as an act of love.
I’ve started yet another new book. I’m beginning to suspect what I’ve known for a long time. I have a hard time finishing novels. This time I’m working on Saint Jude. Saint Jude is the story about what happens when an ex-con, a convicted pedophile in this case (I tried to imagine the worst possible sin I could), moves back home and wants to start attending church. It’ll be an interesting contrast in grace versus law, I think. I’m not sure about the beginning just yet, but I’ll keep working on it. At the moment I have 5,136 words.
So here are the stats:
Topheth – 27,910 words
Jezebel – 6,486 words
Autograph – 24,475 words
The Novem – 26,289 words
Gee, if I’d have just concentrated on one book, I’d have (gets calculator) 90,296 words. A second finished novel in addition to The Coppersmith. My only consolation is that if I keep this up (and don’t add any more new novels!) I’ll be able to knock out a series of books to sell in a short period of time. I don’t know if that will be a good thing or not.
On the other hand, I prefer to spend time working on multiple stories. I can switch back and forth whenever I get stuck or bored, and keep writing without any real issues with writer’s block. Oh well. As long as I’m enjoying the process.