Between Worlds: A Progress Report
From the desk of someone who's learning that writing a supernatural thriller means living in two realities at once
Four weeks ago, I decided to write full-time. After six years of on and off writing, The In-Between was just 60,000 words. Today, I'm sitting at 80,413 words, and I need to tell you something:
This book is changing me.
The Numbers (Because Writers Love/Hate Them)
Current word count: 80,413
Chapters complete: 32
Times I've rewritten the opening: 7 (at least!)
3 AM wake-ups with plot solutions: Too many
Moments of pure terror: Daily
Moments of "this might actually work": Weekly
What The In-Between Is Teaching Me
When you write about the spaces between worlds, you start noticing them everywhere. The pause between sleep and waking. The moment between deciding to write full-time and actually doing it. The breath between hitting the daily wordcount and wondering if it's any good.
My protagonist lives trapped between the living and the dead. I live trapped between confidence and doubt. We're both trying to find our way home.
A Taste from Chapter 1
The opening lines to The In-Between
The teenage years lie somewhere between childhood and sanity, and Mark Russo could hardly hold onto his as he scribbled a note on the back of a summer reading list. The purple ink was still fresh on the white ditto paper, and he fought the urge to inhale, chasing the tease of a mimeograph high.
It was 1986…
What's Haunting Me Right Now
There's a scene in Chapter 31 where Mark has to choose between two terrible options. I've written it twelve times. Each version reveals something different about who the characters really are. This is the beautiful torture of writing—you think you're creating them, but they're the ones teaching you about choice, consequence, and what we do when no one's watching.
The Supernatural Mirror
Here's what nobody tells you about writing supernatural fiction: the ghosts aren't the scary part. The scary part is how much truth you can tell when you wrap it in the impossible.
Every demon in this book is a real fear wearing a fictional face. Every haunting is a question I'm afraid to ask in daylight. Every time my protagonist faces the darkness, I'm right there with him, laptop glowing at 3 AM (or usually 9 AM, or in the passenger seat of a car).
What Comes Next
The first draft will be done by mid-September. Then comes the real haunting: revision. But for now, I'm still in the beautiful, end of Act II—where anything can happen and usually does.
If you're reading this at 3 AM, wondering if that strange sound was just the house settling, know that somewhere, I'm awake too. Writing the fear so we can face it together.
Because that's what The 3 AM Beacon is really about. Not the darkness, but the light we carry through it.
Even if that light is just a laptop screen and too much coffee.
What ghosts are you facing in your work? What lives in your in-between spaces?
P.S. Thank you for being here on this journey. Every time someone tells me they're "drawn in already," it's another light in the darkness. You're the reason the beacon stays lit.
Your note captures the angst of any good writer bent on crafting the best story possible. Keep doing what you're doing. You will have at least one eager reader when you finish.