Yesterday I finished chapter 9 of this third draft of my novel. At 5,479 words, it is not quite the longest chapter in the book (as of yet): chapter 2 is a hefty 6,621 words. But still, it’s long.
As of now, this draft is 34,266 words and, by my reckoning, about 1/3 finished. After completing 9 yesterday, I took a few minutes to outline what would comprise the next third. I have most of it written already. It’s just a matter of rearranging, and readjusting, and adding things. That’s all.
Ha.
Still, I’m very excited, and deeply grateful.
And then I notice that the date of my last note here on progress was August 3, and at that time I had finished chapter 5, which means it took me Almost an Entire Month to write four chapters.
I am discouraged.
And then I remind myself that my beloved children are in school now, that I was writing those four chapters during (still) summer vacation, in and around the busy-ness of their lives, a busy-ness exacerbated by the start of the school year, which always seems to require More. Brand new to me– and surprising, and good, and not without their vicissitudes– are these stretches of hours in the middle of the day. I’ve been enjoying it for just a week and a half: silence for me and my laptop, my notes and my brain.
And then I remember that chapters 7-9, three of August’s five chapters, were written in that last week and a half.
And I’m very excited again.
