I'm working an average of six hours a day on the first book of my novel series. Sometimes I can type three pages in an hour. That is impressive because the material I'm typing was written a year ago, and hasn't been glanced at since. Sometimes I only get one sentence in an hour. That is depressing, because it is one lonely sentence.
But I took a picture of the work I have ahead/behind me.
This is where I was four short months ago. That's pretty hard to believe.
Earlier this afternoon
I've made a fair amount of progress. The papers on the left is all the writing I've gone through and either typed or discarded. The center pile is what still needs to be typed. The pile on the right is all the typing I've done so far, all 36 pages. :) That center pile can be really intimidating.
It's strenuous. One chapter every three days. This is proving to be even more difficult than I thought.
Sometimes this one makes me laugh. Not just because it's bleeding optimism, but I've given myself eleven days to edit a book three times, the last one expanding only two days.
The very scary future.
Typing is tough, but it's showing me what I'm missing. Sometimes it's small inconsistencies in a sub-plot. Sometimes it's glaring oversights in the plot that are the size of a Guatemalan sink hole. I've got at least four more new chapters to write. Then type. Then edit and edit and edit.
Will it ever end? :)