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I have mixed feelings of excitement (!!!!) and stress because. . .
1. I'm a slow writer.
2. I only have until December.
3. I reached approximately 5,000 words before I realized it had problems and needed to be rewritten.
4. The good news is that I buckled down and wrote a little over 7,000 words in the past three days, which I believe is a personal record. As you can imagine, I'm really happy about that :D And actually, right after I finish this post, I'm going to pump out some more words!
5. I don't even know my ending very well yet.
6. I keep going to Amazon and reading the samples of Rooglewood's past anthologies, marveling at the wonderful beginnings of each.
7. This makes me feel like my story is terrible and not worth the time. Which isn't true - I'm aware of that. But still.
8. Thing is, I really want to do this. I really want to have a chance at winning, because let's face it - this is one of the most fantastic opportunities ever. It's, like, one of my biggest dreams right now. (wow, that was cheesy)
9. I know that if I leave it in God's hands, He'll help me. And whether I win or not, I can rest easy that it was how He wanted it.
10. Think about it. Cash prize? Sure, wonderful. But that's not what I have my eye on, obviously. Just think about the anthology for a moment. And if you don't get the tingles, then you're not. Thinking about it. Hard. ENOUGH! *slams fist on table*
11. I'm almost certain my idea is decent. All I have to do is execute it well. No pressure there. *nervous laughter*
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to try my very, very hardest to write FAST. And that's going to be hard because I have this terrible habit of tweaking as I go. Homework: Say the word "tweak" out loud. Go ahead, just say it out loud. Doesn't it remind you of the sound a bird makes? Doesn't it sound... innocent?
*throws knife at wall* Well, it's not!
Tweaking as I go slows me down so much, and when it's habit... tut, tut. Not good, mi amigo. Not good at all. All I can do is put on my headphones, blast The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe soundtrack, and try my hardest not to think about the quality of my writing or look back to read the paragraph I just wrote. It's difficult, so difficult, but I think I can do it. I think I can make it. If I want to enter this badly, I will find a way.
You know the saying. Where there's a will, there's a way.
Wow. Okay, so I probably either totally annoyed you or totally overwhelmed you with my mostly-stressing-out episode up there ^. Please excuse my violent outbursts - these are troubling times XD
Anyways, you're probably curious as to what exactly my alleged "decent" idea is. Well, the story is called...
The Seven Huntresses
...and I don't want to give away too much about it, but I will tell you that I'm doing plenty of gender-swapping and adding/subtracting (which both the above title and the below snippets hint at). I've also gleaned ideas from the Brother's Grimm version, one of which involves dragons. This may sound strange because there are no dragons in the Brother's Grimm version of Snow White, but hey - everyone has an imagination, and I am no exception.
I decided I couldn't not give you at least a small snippet, so here are two. They're messy little morsels, but I'd better get used to that if I'm going to write fast.
I heard the snap of a twig and swiveled my head in the direction it had come from, instinctively. A rabbit, most likely. “It was prying. It doesn’t matter.”
“No, whatever it was, tell me. I don’t want too many questions to be weighing on your mind,” he said, and I caught the teasing in his voice.
“You mentioned ‘she.’ I was only wondering who you were speaking of, but you don’t have to tell me.” I bit my lip, torn between wanting to respect his privacy and wanting to satisfy the curiosity searing questions onto my brain.
When I was far enough away from the camp but still a fair distance behind the prince, I called to him. “Casimir!”
He didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge my presence.
“Casimir, where are you going?”
I reached him and grabbed his arm. Without bothering to look at me over his shoulder, he jerked free.