My best estimate is four hours of writing remaining before the second novel will finally be finished. At last count, I was over 120,000 words, which makes this book far too long for anyone’s good.
My first novel took about two months to complete, four months to edit and 21 days of sitting around staring at my query letter before sending anything out to agents. I was ready for rejection, so when it came (in bunches) my feelings were spared, though I can admit to some frustration. I think it is such a great book, and wish I could better express that sentiment and find an agent as passionate about it as I am.
In the back of my mind, I have been struggling to finish the second book because I can’t think of anyway to properly pitch this book. In fact, writing this particular blog is another attempt at delaying the finish. I like the story, love the people populating the world I’ve imagined. I particularly enjoy the weirdness that has taken place, the way the plot has resisted all my efforts to guide it in certain directions (a phenomenon I always thought was crap, when other writers talked about it).
I am, as usual, excited to let others read it.
My usual writing process offers much quicker feedback. I compose something, usually finishing within a day, maybe two, share it with those close to me, get their responses. With the books, everything is delayed. I resist sharing portions of the work, mostly because I am not sure even my favorite scenes will remain unaltered in the final text. Ideas come and go, moments change, and characters that were meant for death somehow talk their way out of it. Still, I sometimes complete a days work and want to share it. It takes all my efforts to not.
Four more hours. Two writing sessions. I can wait that long.