The first draft, of the first book…is done. Two days early. My god, what have I done?
I love, to, that I finish this milestone on 420…if only I were a pothead, I’d smoke a bowl to celebrate. No, as it is with my sore throat and my droopy eyelids at 2:17 in the am, all I can do is sit down and write the words on this precious page. This page which holds this post that I will always remember as the night that I, for the first time in my life, actually finished writing a book.
The first of many. Goddammit, it better be.
I wrote 24 pages today. The book, this draft, is 311 pages in 10pt double-spaced font. I haven’t turned that back into the requisite 12pt font yet, but it’s gotta be somewhere like 400 pages, give or take. It’s 87,000 words. 87,000! Words! That I wrote!
I feel a bit numb, to be perfectly honest. Or, not numb, but rather less like I’ve reached the top of the mountain and more that I’ve finished the first stage of a life-long race. It’s still incredibly satisfying, let me tell you, but I also know that there’s so much more work to be done. Soooo much more. On this book, and every other that will come after it.
But…for now, and the next two weeks or so…I shall enjoy my accomplishment before I move onto my next.
I have to say, guys, in all honesty…writing this book was pretty fucking simple. Not easy, mind you, never easy…but simple. 3 pages a day. Period. Every day. It worked like a motherfucker. And here I am. Draft one done. 87k.
I did it. Wrote those last few words of the last page. Done. Finished.
I’m going to bed.