Tag Archives: The Wolf Witch

In Defense of Small Word Counts

Let me let you in on a little secret. I don’t write a lot of words per day.

My daily word counts vary from 350 to 700 on a good day, but I almost never break 1,000 words unless I’m at the very end the book because the resolution is often easy for me to write since all the major strings have been tied.

On social media, it’s common for people to post their word counts after a writing sprint or just as a daily thing they do to hold themselves accountable. When I see people post that they wrote 4,000 words in a few hours, I feel sick. That’s more than I write in a week sometimes, most times. Seeing giant word counts is something that bothers me on and off. When my writing is flowing well, I don’t really care. When I’m struggling, all I see are other people’s numbers and I begin to feel inadequate.

When I’m writing consistently, it’s easy say to myself, “Why do you care? You’ve published 5 books. It isn’t like your words don’t add up to a full book.” And my books aren’t exactly tiny. Most are over 90,000 words. So what if it takes me 6-9 months to write it? I’d like to blame capitalism for that. Everything we do is measured in productivity and inevitably we tie our self-worth to the outcomes of our labor. How many words per day is merely a metric by which I measure my self-worth when things aren’t going well.

Someone might say, “Ditch the word count. Just write.” I tried that last year when my mental health was rather shitty, and it did the opposite of help because without something to push me, I wrote nothing for a few months. When writing is a form of self-care, you understand how this can cause a downward spiral. My small daily word count goal of 350 words is like saying I’m going to meditate for 15 minutes every day. It’s something I have to push myself to do because my brain, when it’s feeling low, resists doing it even though it’s good for me. A small, doable goal gives me the push I need to get it done.

Once I hit my 350, I can stop and go to bed. Most of the time I keep going. Days I don’t write because I just don’t have mental or physical spoons to do so, I make up for it the next day. I have a word count tracker that I use to chart my progress and hold myself accountable. Days I don’t write, I don’t put a zero in. Some may think it’s cheating, but zeroes made it harder to write when I was down. Now I just fill in 350 and make up for it the next day by writing 700 words or as I tell myself 2 350s.

We do what we must to trick ourselves into taking our medicine.

For years, I’ve dreaded things like NaNoWriMo where you write 50,000 words in a month or 1,667 words a day. Before I made friends with other writers, I thought you had to be a pro to accomplish such a massive daily word count or be on speed. It never seemed possible. Then I made friends with writers who seemed to do it without a lot of trouble and my confidence cracked. I couldn’t do it. I tried to do NaNo and gave up within the first week. Despite all the hype and support of other writers, I stared at that word count like it was Mt. Everest. Only the strongest and best could do it, and I couldn’t.

What I failed to notice is how many writers do NaNo and don’t publish or shop the book after. Plenty of books grow out of NaNo, but most don’t or they need to be heavily revised. That’s far from my usual process. Until last year, I had never had to totally rewrite a book. My books need editing, but most of it is fact-checking, copy edits, and cleaning up/beefing up descriptions. What I start, I finish, even if it takes the better part of a year.

I guess the point of all this is that you have to do what works for you. If writing a lot and then editing a lot is what comes naturally, then do it. If you write a little at a time, that’s fine too. There’s no one way to write even if there are plenty of books that try to teach you how to boost your productivity. At some point, you have to come to terms with what your process is and embrace it as best you can.

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The Wolf Witch– a Snippet

WolfWitch_v1

Hi, peeps! I’ve been hard at work rewriting the entirety of The Wolf Witch. I’ve been posting bits and behind the scenes goodies to my Patreon lately, but I wanted to share with you a preview of chapter 1. I’m hoping to have The Wolf Witch out by the fall, so let me know what you think of the first half of chapter 1.


The fact that three seemingly connected murders had gone unreported in a city like London was the first clue that something was amiss. The second was that they appeared to have been caused by a wolf, and to Wesley Bisclavret’s knowledge, he was the only werewolf in all of Britain. It didn’t take a Pinkerton to realize that someone—probably someone important—had something to hide.

Snuffling along the cobbles, the wolf lifted his head at the sound of a steamer chugging down the lane. His ears flattened in annoyance as he pushed into the hedges again. This is why he never took city assignments. Too many cabs, too many people, too many confusing smells and noises. The stench of that much garbage on top of thousands of bodies made it nearly impossible to track anyone and the racket of banging and thrumming from streets over gave him a headache. He should have told Les Meutes and the Smithsonian to shove their assignments, but he needed to prove himself if he wanted to make it on his own. The moment the cab passed, Wesley slunk out and shook the grime from his back. At least England didn’t have so many horses. The damn things seemed to know a werewolf from a dog and made a god awful racket even if they only sensed them nearby. Most of his work took him to the West or up the Mississippi. At least there, he could blend into the shadows even if wolves had long since abandoned those grounds for fear of running into humans. In Louisiana, he had grown up stalking bandits with his father and the other rougarou, moving silently through the trees on silent paws as one. Wolves lived in those parts, bobcats too, but here… Here, there was nothing but the occasional scroungy stray dog and rock as far as the eye could see. Even their parks were barely more than manicured lawns.

When the streets fell silent, Wesley padded down the street and sniffed the air. Cologne. Expensive cologne and fancy food. French, if he wasn’t mistaken. His mouth watered at the heady perfume of beef hanging in the air, but with a shake of his head, he continued on, following the smell lurking beneath it. His tail flicked as his lips curled into a semblance of a smile. He had him now. Shifting his eyes between the pavement and the road ahead, Wesley followed the smell through the city, ducking into parks or behind iron fences and trees like some feral creature whenever a human shape cut through the nighttime fog.  Padding across the road to a row of neat red brick houses with fronts choked ivy and fences sharp as iron pikes, he could taste the slick of paint on his tongue and the stench of flowers that had no business being concentrated into perfume. Dandies, he huffed, curling his lip and sneezing out the irritating odor.

Wesley darted past a house alight with the clamor of a party in full swing, hoping no one spotted him through the window as he picked up the scent in the next shadow. Trailing down the alley between the two houses, Wesley lifted his head. The other wolf was here or had been recently. He was certain of it. Lifting his leg on the corner of the house, he pondered his next move. Even in his human form, he could smell his way back to the house and confront the man. His client hadn’t even demanded he hand the thief over to Scotland Yard; all he wanted was the stolen artifact. At least that would make the job easier. Hell, he could steal the thing and catch the next transatlantic dirigible to New York before dawn. Squeezing past the garbage littering the back alley, Wesley froze. His mouth watered at the scent, and he instinctively licked his teeth as if he could taste it.

The wolf stirred within. Blood, and where there’s blood, there’s flesh.

Shit, Wesley thought as he pushed past the mottled brown and black wolf.

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Cover Reveal: The Wolf Witch (IMD #6)

Can I get a drum roll, please? May I present the cover of book six of the Ingenious Mechanical Devices, The Wolf Witch.

WolfWitch_v1

After three months abroad, Emmeline Jardine has returned to England ready to start her life anew as a free woman. That is, until a suitor from her mother’s past arrives looking for her help, but the gentleman is more than he seems. He’s Emmeline’s father.

There’s one person Emmeline can turn to: Nadir Talbot. A writer, unrepentant decadent, and all around busybody, Nadir is everything Emmeline has been taught to avoid. But when she needs to escape her family’s past, she convinces Nadir to follow her to an estate deep in the wild of the woods.

When guests go missing and turn up savagely murdered, Emmeline, her new found family, and Nadir must join forces to stop an awakening evil with not only the power to destroy their lives but bring the empire to its knees.

I can’t wait to share this book with you. Emmeline is a… unique individual, and in The Wolf Witch, we come to know a different side of her as she discovers has family’s past and moved toward finding who she is. The question is how does Nadir Talbot factor into this? Why are they on their way to an estate in the woods? What does Emmeline’s father want? And of course, who is he?

The current estimate for The Wolf Witch’s release date is May if all goes well. I will keep you updated, and stay tuned for more tidbits and teasers in the coming months.

If you would like to add The Wolf Witch to your Goodreads to-read list, you can find it here.

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