#tracking word count

[the-wip-project]

SloMo WriNo: Outlining and Tracking

it's November Ist! The big day is here!

Hopefully you have your minimum and maximum word count goals set, and have found a good time to fit in your writing. Now it's time to start writing.

I have a few final (well not final, I’ll be making a lot more posts!) suggestions to help you stay on track.

Firstly, regarding outlines. Now you may have noticed that I haven’t really talked about outlines before now. That’s because I am a pure discovery writer, or pantser. That is, I don’t even think about outlining before I start writing. If you are someone who likes having one made in advance, I assume that you have found and used one of the excellent methods that others have created.

That is not what I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about what you do while writing. I believe that building an outline as you write is an absolutely essential part of the process of writing a novel, even if you, like me, never ever prepare one in advance.

What I want you to do is this. Each day after you have written, write a few sentence description of what you’ve written. Do this even if you have an outline already, do this especially if what you’ve written diverges from your previously prepared outline. The goal is to create an outline of what you’ve actually written.

I like to use the index card function on Scrivener for this, because it becomes the chapter and scene titles so my outline in progress is right there in the sidebar of my document and easy to refer to. (Yet another reason I highly recommend Scrivener) But you can do it in whatever function your program has, a separate google doc, or even on physical paper.

I’ve found nothing keeps a novel on track like an ongoing outline. So please give it a go!

Secondly, there's the matter of tracking your word count. Of course all programs will give you an ongoing total word count. Some will also track your daily word counts for you.

Still, I find it helpful to track my daily word count separately. It keeps me honest, and something about the process of manually updating a tracker makes it all feel official. There’s a few ways to do this.

A spreadsheet. (feel free to make a copy of this one to use)

Track yourself in an app (I've been liking this one)

Join the WIP discord and report your word count in the check-in channel.

No matter what method you choose, keeping an eye on your daily progress will help you tweak your schedule to continue making writing most days a priority.

So that’s it! Create an ongoing outline, keep track of your word count and get busy writing your novel!

And don’t forget to keep me updated on your progress. Use the tag #slomowrino on your posts, send me an ask, or @ me on the WIP discord.

[messrsrarchives]

"if you don't want to use goodreads or storygraph for fanfiction try this app inste-"

use a spreadsheet 😖 a basic spreadsheet 😖 stop putting fanfictions into random apps without the authors approval 😖 or at all 😖 stop viewing fanfic as tradlit 😖 or as a product😖 if the app has a rating system 😖 then it is Not for fanfiction 😖 not everything needs to be publicly tracked 😖 or compared 😖 or rated 😖 just enjoy 😄

[yellowistheraddest]

one of my nerdy friends is crying about how he read only 25 books last year, saying its way too little... i better not tellhim i havent read a book fully through since i was like 14 years old

[lazycranberrydoodles]

ughhhhh so probably the tgcf scene i think the most about is in the final battle when hua cheng is holding xie lian and backwards gripping eming with his other hand i . god. this is referenced off of The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel (i’m pretty sure everyone has seen it by this point) which is surprisingly pretty topical for tgcf.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Courtship Confusion: Part 2

You’ve been working with your siren partner for a couple years now. A consummate flirt, you’d initially been put off by his whole charming deal, somehow he’s become your best friend. You’ve been wanting to see if he’s still interested in dating, but unfortunately he’s not picking up your hints. A pair of visiting cubi remind you of the cultural differences that come with interspecies dating. Maybe you’ve both been misunderstanding each other. Maybe it’s time you set the record straight.

Modern Fantasy, friends to lovers, siren/harpy, male monster x reader, Part 2 of 8

AO3: Courtship Confusion Chapter 2

[Part One] Part Two

One of the witches tries to clap now that Morgan’s song is over and looks down, befuddled at her cuffed hands. Some of the others are coming down faster, struggling with their cuffs and cursing out the officers—luckily with only words and not hexes.

Morgan smirks down at the formerly ensnared before removing himself from their sight. He alights to the ground at the back of his makeshift stage, his wings gentling his fall. He’s so effortlessly graceful it makes your teeth ache.

With your own practiced movement, you look away long enough to get your bearings while he strides over, going in a wide circle to put some distance between himself and the witches.

“Good job,” you say, because it was. You remember how these types of operations used to go. How much more dangerous and less successful they were without Morgan’s skills. “NIA snagged two, but we got the rest.”

“Wonderful,” Morgan replies, clearly satisfied with a successful hunt. His distance from those formerly bewitched is two fold. Firstly to help them calm down, away from his influence, but also to help calm his own prey instincts. There have only been one or two instances where the person you were attempting to stop was powerful enough to prove to be a valid threat even after Morgan sang. Morgan preferred to set people at ease around him, but he could disregard such tendencies when he needed to without a second thought. Sirens’ merciless reputation was not unearned. 

He was beautiful then too. That was when you first realized that perhaps your feelings for him had changed, from platonic to something else. And by then, it was already too late.

His ruffling of his own feathers as he adjusted his wings’ position on his back drew your attention. Your hands itched to help preen him, but you knew how sensitive he was about that. He’d only let you do more than fix a feather once or twice and even then only after they had been seriously messed up and in private.

You track his gaze and see the senior officer wave Morgan over. Evidently enough time had passed that they believed Morgan’s presence would be more help than hindrance.

You look back up at Morgan, to see if that's the case for him as well. He turns to you and seems surprised you’re already looking at him. He smiles a pleased but lazy smile, hands slipping into his pockets. “Be right back,” Morgan reassures you, answering your unasked questions. He starts to hum something calming in the back of his throat as he ambles over to the cuffed witches.

You wave him off as you start packing up your equipment. Why is it these things always take so much longer to put away than to take out? 

You’re nearly done when someone else, not Morgan, interrupts. “A siren, ay?” You look up to see a pair of the NIA agents approaching. You don’t remember them from the briefings earlier but NIA had brought in some additional field agents to help too. “Rare to have one this far from the waters.”

You shrug. People like to point out how odd it is for a siren to be landlocked, but what can you say to that except confirm that Morgan lives here? He’d only lived by the water when he was a little kid. “Suppose. Everyone lives pretty much everywhere these days.”

“That’s true enough. It was a wonderful performance,” the second of these two agents adds, just in time for Morgan to join you. Both agents are in nice suits, looking more like actresses than agents. You feel scruffy in comparison and resist the urge to fix your hair which you know the headphones from earlier must have messed up. The first agent’s dark hair looks artfully tousled by the wind while the second’s short, lighter hair looks as if it's as perfectly styled as it had been when she left the house.

Unfair. You almost hope they’re cubi or vamps or something to explain their supernaturally beautiful appearance.

“Why thank you,” Morgan says, as he walks over just in time to be complimented. He’s clearly unintimidated by their poise—likely because he’s managing to look as good if not better than them. “I’m always happy when my talents lend themselves to our work.”

“You just like to sing on company time,” you tease, looking for some familiar ground to regain your footing. You weren’t usually this insecure, but your nerves always acted up after the adrenaline wore off. You preferred to get anxious now rather than before, but neither was pleasant. 

He grins and adjusts his lapels. “As I said.”

“I’ve never seen a siren work so precisely,” the older agent comments, eying Morgan with speculative interest. You hate the jealousy and protectiveness that flares up in you with that look. She’s certainly his type: attractive and interested in him. She looks between the two of you and perhaps you should feel flattered not to have been forgotten, but it just barely helps you push your unreasonable feelings to the side. “You certainly seem to have this routine of yours down pat.”

Before either of you could respond, the second agent adds, “We were skeptical when your office offered to help, but we’ve never had such a clean capture.” 

“Thanks,” you reply. She said it like a compliment but it feels backhanded to you, though perhaps unintentionally. The traditional ‘local vs national’ rivalry has you inclined to hear an implication that a local office might have nothing to offer, but maybe you’re just reading into things. They lack some of the arrogance and condescension the national agents often had. The kind that makes you grit your teeth and forcibly redirect Morgan before he says something too honest, even if you agree with him.

“We were happy to be of service,” Morgan replies, an edge to some of his charm. “This is our specialty, mine and my partner’s, I mean. You’ll not find any better.”

If the brag comes across as self-agrandizing, they don't seem to mind. “So it would seem,” the senior agent says, leaning forward with interest. “Would—”

“Riding out!” One of the other officers calls out, the signal for everyone not a tech inventorying the warehouse for further evidence to move back to the precinct. 

“We should regroup back at base,” the second agent says. You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow in surprise, so they actually had something they wanted to talk to you about? You’d been chalking up their idle chatter as looking for someone remotely interesting to linger near until everyone left—which Morgan definitely was, even if you weren’t.

“Aye, aye,” Morgan replies with a tease before turning his back on them completely. Likely reminding them that they have no actual authority over the two of you. You press your lips together to suppress your smile. “Your arms look full, why don’t you hand me the keys?”

“Not on your life.” You don’t even entertain the possibility, despite how unwieldy the duffel bags you’ve got are. “You haven’t renewed your license yet for a squad car.”

“Semantics,” Morgan scoffs as he falls in step next to you. You figure the agents will go their own way now and track you down back at the office, if they’re even still interested. Instead they fall in step a couple paces behind you, talking to each other but clearly following you and Morgan. 

“Rules,” you reply automatically. There’s no sense in speculating on their motives with so little information, so you do your best to ignore the agents. Maybe their care was just also parked out by this entrance. “Here.” You hand him one of the bags of equipment. “Since you wanted to help and were so concerned about my arms.”

“But Inspector,” Morgan whines even as he easily takes the weight, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “It’s not my fault that I rarely need to drive.” He puffs up his wings for emphasis, drawing attention to their sleek appearance.

You’ve got plenty of practice keeping focus even with him showing off his assets. “But you still need the license when you do, no matter your ‘natural advantages’.”

“I have a typical license,” he grumbles, giving up once he can see you’re not budging. “It’s not my fault they require a separate one for our vehicles and that they changed the rules after the Buzzar incident. How was I supposed to know?”

“Because you were there when it happened?” you point out. 

“Yes, and I would never do such a thing.” Morgan says, but you just raise an eyebrow. He’s damaged squad cars doing stunts before. He purposely ignores you as he continues, “And I certainly don’t see why it had to be memorialized on the exam.”

“Doesn’t matter and no amount of whining now is gonna change anything,” you reiterate with a smirk. You jingle the keys in your hand. Truthfully, you’d be driving regardless since you’re the senior inspector, but it’s fun to have a reason to tease him about. You only let Morgan drive in extreme circumstances anyways. “I’m still driving.”

Morgan pouts as he opens the trunk to drop in his bag, taking yours from you wordlessly. Before he can try to convince you again to let him drive, the senior NIA agent speaks up, “We’ll see you there.” The second agent waves as they head over to the sleek black car with the NIA logo on it parked only a few yards away.

“Why do we have to drive this old clunker when they have that?” Morgan grumbles.

“Because we have a fourth of their budget,” you reply with a snort. “Come one, get in.”

[livwritesstuff]

So Steve obviously loves Valentine’s Day.

This didn’t ever come as a surprise to Eddie, and in the years between when they started dating and when their kids were born, it was something that never changed.

When Steve walked in the door fresh off the afternoon carpool route with their three daughters in tow and said, “Dude – I swear to god this has gotta be the best Valentine’s Day ever,” Eddie wasn’t exactly taken aback, more just unsure what could have happened so early in the day that had him this confident that V-Day of 2012 would be the best one ever.

“Why?” Eddie asked suspiciously.

“When I dropped off Ava, David invited me over to watch the basketball game,” he replies, still with a massive grin on his face even as their daughters dump their backpacks and jackets and shoes all over the ground instead of hanging them up like they should be doing.

Eddie made a face – David, one of their neighbors and an unfortunate addition to the elementary school carpool circuit, is notably a total fucking loser. 

He’s also obsessed with Steve (and not even in a gay way, which Eddie could at least understand – no, it’s in this weird, loser, ex-jock who peaked in high school kind of way).

“I know, right? I’m pretty sure he’s that fucking desperate for something to do tonight that isn’t his wife,” Steve continued.

“What’s wrong with his wife?”

“Ed, believe it or not, it gets even better.”

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, finally getting that Steve’s got a whole-ass story for him.

“I’m going to, man, holy shit,” Steve shook his head as he stepped over the mess their kids left behind (because one of them would be corralling them all back downstairs to deal with their shit like they’re supposed to)

So Eddie listens as Steve launches into a retelling of the conversation he apparently had with David, who, predictably, acted like a total fucking loser about how Steve actually wanted to spend time with his family on Valentine’s Day.

“What does this have to do with his wife?” Eddie asked when Steve reached a stopping point, “Other than how incredibly sad it is for her.”

“Right – so get this. David ended up telling me that his wife is going out tonight with Chris, and I figured he meant Chris, like Christine, Liam’s mom, because I know they’re friends, but it’s not. It’s Chris, the divorced dad on the PTA, and apparently they hang out all the time.”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he pieced together what Steve was implying.

“No fucking way.”

“Right?!? And, look, you know I think cheating is wrong, but…I dunno, I really hope she has a fantastic Valentine’s Day.”

[youjustwaitsunshine]

anyways i genuinely and deeply believe that seb is one of the best, well-rounded, most talented racing drivers currently active and i think no matter where he was racing, he'd adapt within less than one season. he's incredibly versatile, everyone who has worked with him praises his quick understanding, intelligence and detailed feedback. he's a genius on track and seizes every opportunity he can and any team across all of motorsport recognizes his talent. so many other drivers know him to be courteous and friendly and so many racing series want to win him (and the fanbase and recognition that comes with him) to drive for them. It's clear that once a team is genuinely happy to have him and listens to him, he's a major force that very few other drivers could come up against.

[sincerely-sofie]

Me: Ahhh yes. I have finally finished the first truly completed draft of Better the Wool's outline. It's got goofy scenes and gut-wrenching plotlines, tragic backstories and a central theme of power and control versus trust and uncertainty... plus shipping! This project is taking a hot minute, but thankfully I don't have anything demanding I finish prepping the fanfic ASAP :>

Meanwhile, the looming urge to participate in NaNoWriMo again in November:

[happilyobsessing]

CONTROL

Pairing: Weiler de Riva x Emmrich Volkarin Words: 2,512 Rating: Mature Summary: Weiler and Emmrich explore what it means to lose control. AO3 Link

Thank you so much to @smoreofbabylon for the prompt a kiss to lose control. This . . . totally ran away from me and life got in the way. It probably isn't what you had in mind, but ironically I had no control over this. It just happened. It's true to Weiler and Emmrich though, so I hope you (and everyone else!) enjoys x

When Emmrich's hand reached forward toward her cheek - slow and hesitant, as if she were a skittish beast - Weiler instantly snatched his wrist in her own tight grip. Idiot, she scolded herself, you've just proved him right. A deep, shuddering breath fell from her lips as she stared down his hand like it posed a challenge, a threat. No, this is Emmrich, she had to remember. He has never hurt you, would never hurt you. Not like you're hurting him. With a sickening swoop in her belly, she realised that her trembling knuckles had bled of their colour. Her nails were digging into the tender skin, pressing against the thin blue ribbon of vein beneath. And yet - despite the frantic racing of her heart that seemed to stumble and trip in her chest - she could not force herself to let go.

"Sorry." She dropped her head, feeling her hand shake, and fixed her wide-eyed gaze at his shoes. The leather gleamed. The laces were perfectly symmetrical. The ends were pointed in a way that made her wonder if they had narrowed the width of his toes. Beneath her palm, a chilled dampness began to prickle. Emmrich had probably spent more coin on these shoes than she had owned in her life.

"Weiler." She flinched to hear his voice, no matter how gently it fell against her. Curling in on herself, she tucked her chin tighter to her collarbone, her eyes screwed tight as she waited for steel to harden his words. "Dearest one, may I?" Opening her left eye the slightest amount, she struggled to focus on his right hand, held out low toward her but with plenty of space between them still. She heard the question and was surprised by his intent when his left hand was still in her unforgiving grasp. Her vision began to clear; his palm was upward facing, the long fingers uncurled and relaxed within the burgundy leather.

She twitched, an uncomfortable jerk of her head one, two in time with her spiralling thoughts, but when he made to pull away her stomach lurched again.

"Wait." Close your eyes. Take a breath. Slow. Deep. Again. In. Out. Again. In . . . out. The long exhale was steadier, only a faint ripple to the air as it escaped her lips. "Okay. Where?"

"If you are comfortable with me doing so, your mandible. On your left-hand side."

Not quite trusting herself to let more words out, Weiler instead hummed. The vibration tickled up the length of her throat and along her tongue like her own voice would happily betray her to pour itself out to her lover. What it would say she was afraid to know, so a thoughtless noise would have to do. Like an animal.

“Darling, I know it’s difficult,” did he? How could he? When he could conjure a tapestry of words out of nothing like, well, magic when she could barely thread a needle with her clumsy tongue, how could he possibly know, “and in another circumstance I would not push this. But I need to hear you give me permission to touch you.”

Fuck.

Weiler swallowed, a thick and painful thing to do given the tension in her neck, and worked her jaw as a horse would champ around the bit that pinched its mouth. Her hand still gripped Emmrich’s wrist – Maker, shit, just let him go! – her arm now shaking with the effort, and of course he was going to grow impatient, pull away, sigh in such disappointment that yet again she had failed in such a simple thing like the imbecile she was when he had been so kind, so understanding, so enduring of her fucking weakness. His brow would furrow, his gaze would grow cold, and he would wrench himself from her (and of course she would be able to let him go then, how could she force him to stay?) and leave her alone, alone, alone like she deserved –

Read the rest on AO3

[theburnedoutnerd]

Got a new word count tracking site that I'm gonna use for my next writing challenge that I'm going to start November 1st! The site is TrackBear (https://trackbear.app/) and so far I'm into it.

You can create multiple projects:

You can create goals and set the goals to update with either all projects, specific projects you select to count towards your goal, or progress updates that are tagged using a specific tag that would count towards your project:

I haven't tested the other stuff yet because I just created this account and am only going to start putting it to work tomorrow, but it just came out of beta so I'm sure someone else has opinions. The leader board page has a button where it looks like you can invite people to your challenges.

A friend tossed this my way as a replacement for NaNoWriMo, and I'm here for it.

Wish me luck, homies.

Mutuals Taglist

@saphoblin @thelordgrey @sarahlizziewrites @rickie-the-storyteller

[starfilled-galaxy]

They call me the blockerrr /silly

[sidesteppostinghours]

"You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling"

—

guess who finally listened to chappell roan

[evadingreallife]

DISCLAIMER: i have my own opinions but mainly i just enjoy stirring up chaos. Tell me in the tags what you all think!!✨

Reblog for sample size etc etc you know it

ps. Yeah thats not a walrus emoji but its the closest i had cmooon cut me some slack guys

pps. bts as in BEHIND THE SCENES dont come @ me talking about BTS the group yall (<-actual mistake i have done. multiple times. yay.)

[ishikawayukis]

pals what app or site do you use to keep track of the books you've read

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

If you ever wonder how I keep track of what I'm posting when, just know there is an excel sheet involved, and it's colour-coded

[gurlgallade]

*Uses find-and-replace to see if the word "fuck" appears in a Red chapter, to make sure it's tonally appropriate if it is*

*Find-and-replace immediately skips to the title of Blue's next chapter*

Yeah, they're probably in-character.