247...248...249...

So I'm writing...well, 'kay, attempting to write...a plot synopsis as per the requirements of the White Wolf Novel Writing Contest. (The fact that I'm writing this instead of the synopsis should be your first clue as to how it's going.) And I've once again reminded of something I've known of myself for quite some time: I find it difficult to work with word count limits.

See, if I'm just allowed to write as much or as little as I want, then I'm fine (more or less). I write until I have nothing more to say. And it usually works out.

But when the person/group/faceless corporation I'm writing for demands my work be of a certain length, or under a certain length, then suddenly the word count is all I can think about. I'm counting the words of every sentence, deleting adjectives and adverbs, wiping out prepositional phrases, until every sentence sounds like, "Bob is angry. He goes home. Then he kills someone." And I go into so far into Editorial Headhunter mode while I'm writing that the finished product will end up way, way short of the limit. (Right now, I'm at 142 words and running out of things to say.) So this small writing assignment, which should be so simple, turns into something akin to playing Jenga, and I'm desperately shifting blocks of words around, petrified the whole thing will tumble over and crash.

I have until April 15th to strangle this thing into working shape. You may pray for my success, if that's your thing.

(And this post, not counting this parenthetical, featured 259 words, and was written in about five minutes. See what I mean?)