Shit

I was pretty happy about fifteen minutes ago. I was in bed with the lights off when my mind started wandering like it usually does, quickly getting to the story I've been working on this week. And bang! I knew who did it. Out of nowhere, and it makes sense and it works and it turns the story upside down. I jumped out of bed and went to the computer and immediately typed notes about the rest of the plot. And, let me tell you, it felt really really good. This story is turning into one of those mazes that I never thought I could really write. I'm straight out estatic at this point. And then I thought about how much time it will take to tell this story - not in terms of days and weeks it will take me to type the damn thing out, but how many words this is now ending up needing. This was supposed to be a short story. It was a simple excercise intended for a 6000 word max story. I look at the damn thing now and it's already over 3000 words and my hero is just getting started. Looking at it now and doing some quick thinking, I figure that this will take about 60,000 words. I don't need to start another novel. I already have two I'm ignoring now. Shit.