![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
symbioidlj2300 words in my story! woot! 11 pages written already.(double-space, courier-new, 12 pt font)
I hope this works... I'm glad I'm finally being productive again. Of course, there will be more and more rewriting and editing, but at least I"m doing it again. I'm so HAPPY!!!!
Of course, I am only retreading what I've already done many times before. But it's working. Here's a bit if you'd like to read a taster...(Karrie, I know you've read some before, but this is re-written) Also, note that none of this is edited at all... "Hot off the presses of my mind" So if there's grammar problems, that's why(also, I'm not very good at grammar as it is... sigh)
According to one site:
short-short story = under 1,000 words
short story = 1,000 to 7,499 words
novelette = 7,500 to 17,499 words
And according to another....
Average # Words Approx. pages,double-spaced
Short-short story 500-2500 2-10
Short story 2500-5000 10-20
Novelette 7000-25,000 28-100
Novel--paperback 35,000-80,000 140-320
Novel--hard cover 25,000-150,000 100-600
Xeles, the celestial city. Abode of the countless gods and goddesses. The supreme oversouls of all that is. Existing in the space just beyond the grasp of time. A brilliant, shimmering luminescent plane floating, alone, in the vastness of space. Reaching up from this plane, this ground of being: Twisted spires bent over in recursive branchings, infinitely looping into a wondrous fountained tree; Gigantic cubic, crystalline buildings with no architect, save for the very city itself. Huge globular shapes floating like clouds, dissipating, and reattaching themselves to other, similar broken blobs. These mercurial souls of beings delight at play in the black space that radiates with a dim, subtle, ultraviolet energy between the plane of this city and the pure white light that floats above it. This white vortex, radiant with infinite rainbow colors: The Aether itself. And below, beyond sight, under the surface of the city, a bubbling blackness drawing whisps of this radiant light from the bottom of the city ever into itself, solid chunks of existence swirling downward into it's own counter-vortex. The reverse spires hanging like stalactites from the bottom of this plane. Condensing and dropping towards this black whirlpool, only to be regurgitated at the fringes, like the radiation from a black hole. The void. This nothingness which draws all towards itself and calls itself death.
I hope this works... I'm glad I'm finally being productive again. Of course, there will be more and more rewriting and editing, but at least I"m doing it again. I'm so HAPPY!!!!
Of course, I am only retreading what I've already done many times before. But it's working. Here's a bit if you'd like to read a taster...(Karrie, I know you've read some before, but this is re-written) Also, note that none of this is edited at all... "Hot off the presses of my mind" So if there's grammar problems, that's why(also, I'm not very good at grammar as it is... sigh)
According to one site:
short-short story = under 1,000 words
short story = 1,000 to 7,499 words
novelette = 7,500 to 17,499 words
And according to another....
Average # Words Approx. pages,double-spaced
Short-short story 500-2500 2-10
Short story 2500-5000 10-20
Novelette 7000-25,000 28-100
Novel--paperback 35,000-80,000 140-320
Novel--hard cover 25,000-150,000 100-600
Xeles, the celestial city. Abode of the countless gods and goddesses. The supreme oversouls of all that is. Existing in the space just beyond the grasp of time. A brilliant, shimmering luminescent plane floating, alone, in the vastness of space. Reaching up from this plane, this ground of being: Twisted spires bent over in recursive branchings, infinitely looping into a wondrous fountained tree; Gigantic cubic, crystalline buildings with no architect, save for the very city itself. Huge globular shapes floating like clouds, dissipating, and reattaching themselves to other, similar broken blobs. These mercurial souls of beings delight at play in the black space that radiates with a dim, subtle, ultraviolet energy between the plane of this city and the pure white light that floats above it. This white vortex, radiant with infinite rainbow colors: The Aether itself. And below, beyond sight, under the surface of the city, a bubbling blackness drawing whisps of this radiant light from the bottom of the city ever into itself, solid chunks of existence swirling downward into it's own counter-vortex. The reverse spires hanging like stalactites from the bottom of this plane. Condensing and dropping towards this black whirlpool, only to be regurgitated at the fringes, like the radiation from a black hole. The void. This nothingness which draws all towards itself and calls itself death.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
just an opinion. tis all. nothing more.
Date: 2003-06-16 12:50 am (UTC)set yourself free.