I finished the 1st draft of my second novel yesterday.
This one is 488% better than the last one (approximately).
70,000 words written on the weekends since April, 2017. That works out to about 1200 words per day. And since I wasn’t /that/ dedicated to the process, I’m sure the day count is fewer and the words/per day is greater.
Why should one care? Oh, no reason. Some of us are attracted to statistical analysis; it tends to lend a context to the daily slog. But it’s only a curiosity. Unless one is trying to gauge how much one can write (or create) before one’s Alzheimers kicks in – and renders one incapable of writing or creating anything. (A close, genetically similar aunt died of early onset Alzheimer, so the thought forever scratches at the back of my mind.)
This novel is the one with pictures, Fiverr artist pictures, an experiment of sorts. But I only commissioned 12 illustrations thus far ($), and won’t do the rest (~40) until I get some feedback from an agent.
And of course, as I designed the story, I ended with a much more expansive arc than I could fit into one book. Which means the /complete/ story (Harry Potter style) must span two or three novels. I’m always torn when I read something like this; how dare you author, not wrap every-bloody-thing up in one story! But, now I must commiserate. It’s hard.
This story is full featured and complete unto itself, of course. But the denouement leaves the door wide open for additional questions and shit, now that I think about it, I better write a bit more regarding this tidy package, with ribbon and bow, that has this rat eating a hole out of the bottom corner… Sorry, be right back (or not).