I’m sorry for all the boring boringness lately, but here’s an exciting (I think) piece of news:

I just typed “The End.”

It’s not. This is just a first draft of a novel. But it’s a full first draft of a novel, something I’ve never actually done before.

Which means, with only the barest, slimmest of margins, I have finished full drafts of two books in three years. Forgive me if my dazzling happy is blinding you from this far. Because I am: very very happy.

[Final counts, if you’re still playing. Total: 99,196. Today: 3239. Yep. That is one honking big day of writing. It shames me that I could have been doing that many words all along. But when I had to—since today is the last day I’ll have a chance to write seriously for a while—I did. This is good news for me, actually. When I’m working and all I have is an hour, maybe I can still get some drafts together.]

No, you can’t read it yet. It’s a piece of garbage at the moment.