Arced

I’ve retroactively added arcs for the first half and proactively added them to the second.

What’s Going On? covers chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4.
Getting Used to It covers chapters 5, 6, and 7.
Lone Wolves, Numbers Go Up covers chapters 8 and 9
Introductions covers chapters 10, 11, 12, and 13.
The Cost of Power covers chapters 14, 15, and 16. This required some editing to push everything into alignment with the arc. It’s also a bit grandiose for what actually happens.
Starting to Build covers chapters 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24. This may end up being split, but it reflects what’s already there. There are three things building in parallel: Tom and Luke, the Pack, and the Town. That’s why it stretches over so much text.
Preparation covers chapters 25, 26, and 27 (which is the end, at the moment).

There is nothing mentioned in the text and nothing structural (chapter heading, etc…) about these arcs. It’s more for writing focus than reader noticeability.

Yet again, the spreadsheets and text drifted apart. Synchronized.

I’m considering the first half done. I can’t keep going back to change things or I won’t ever finish. My alpha readers gave good feedback. Until there is another external reason for further editing, I’m calling it done.

Chapters 16, 17, and 18 are also “done”.

Chapter 19 needs that stupid fire pit scene written, but that’s all that’s left. It still won’t come together. “They cooked it and ate it” may replace the entire scene. I want some group bonding, though. I’m not good at bonding, which is why it’s hard to write it.

Update with interesting feedback: I’ve been told that Pete and Eileen are more relatable than the Spanbauers (Brian, Stacey, and Marcy). I find this odd because I feel the other way around. The “stupid fire pit scene” is a good place to fix that. So much for replacing it with a sentence.

Chapter 20 is done (but it hardly counts; it’s only four pages long).

Chapter 21 needs its middle replaced. I had a bunch of people in a nursing home die for various reasons (no meds, no oxygen, no electricity, etc…). Then I realized that if the System were making werewolves, there’s no reason it couldn’t/wouldn’t fix other people up. I need to re-alive them, which is going to put pressure on the housing stock issue.

Chapter 22 is somewhere between mostly done and a complete mess. It’s trying to do too much, but it’s all stuff that happens in parallel. It needs a structural edit to get it in line, but I want to get everything down, first. It’s 14 pages, so there is plenty of room for more. This is where the biker gang will attack, if I ever figure out a motive for them doing so. They need one because they’re not all going to die. Presumably someone will think to ask “what the hell did you think you were doing?”

Chapter 23 just needs some backstory for Reilly. The rest of it is done.

Chapter 24 and 25 are mostly snippets.

The second half seems to be progressing slower than the first half did.

The third alpha revision is 29,530 words in 158 pages. I was curious, so I pulled the rest into the master document: 121,804 words in 291 pages. That means that the second half is more than the first half – and the total is novel length! I’d guess there are about 80 to 100 unwritten pages.

Oh! And somewhere, probably chapter 24, we need a magic thing that spins. Anything rotary with some oomph (torque or horsepower; gearing one will resolve the other) will do. Almost all human machines rely on something spinning for them to work. The big one: The water pumps in Kier.

I should probably add in some weather. It’s barely mentioned, although it gets meta-mention as a surprising topic for post-apocalypse small talk.

Update: Maybe my biker gang doesn’t need motivation?

“Down!” I barked as I shoved Leo back.

An arrow zipped past his head, close enough to ruffle his hair, before it thunked into a tree trunk.

A second bolt followed a split second later and clanged off my shoulder guard before spinning into the mud.

“Cover!” I growled.

We dove behind a jagged outcrop, and my heart thudded wildly in my chest.

“Wha… where?” Leo hissed.

“Left side,” I said as I peeked out just long enough to catch shadows shifting among the underbrush. “Two… no, three figures. People.”

“Skinchangers?” Leo suggested.

“Maybe… I don’t know,” I muttered. “We haven’t had a quest pop up or anything.”

“The HUD wasn’t exactly forthcoming about them last time, either,” Leo shrugged.

“Good point,” I said.

The first rogue stepped out of the thicket like he owned the forest. Mismatched armor clung to his wiry frame, and what looked like a scavenged leather breastplate was strapped over a faded hoodie. Shin guards were lashed with paracord, and there was one cracked gauntlet on his off hand. I couldn’t be sure, but he sure didn’t look like the Skinchangers. They had been too clean and perfect. This guy was a mess.

His face was obscured by a smeared motorcycle visor, but I didn’t need to see his grin to feel it in his voice.

“Well, well,” he said with an exaggerated drawl. “What’ve we got here? A pair of fresh little lambs out for a morning stroll?”

Two others flanked him.

Me, My Son, & the Apocalypse, page 323

Apparently, power-tripping assholes being power-tripping assholes is sufficient motivation.

That seems weak from a story perspective and lazy from an author perspective.

“You’ll let us walk?” I snorted. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“Screw the niceties, Kaz,” the Berserker grunted. “Let’s just carve them up. I want his head on my trophy board.”

“Patience, Wade,” the Tactician said. “It’s always better when they think they have a chance. It gives the game a bit of a kick, don’t you think?”

I almost audibly groaned at how cheesy and pathetic these morons sounded.

At least the author realizes that.

Our intrepid heroes sensibly run away (tactical retreat, not a rout) and live to fight another day. I like that part. I need to remember that not every battle needs to be won. Our intrepid werewolves _talk_ a lot about running from things that are too tough, but they don’t do it very often.