Tiger, the love of my life, tells me that I have a… ‘process’ for writing. It goes something like this:

0 to 15,000 words: Utter elation. I walk around saying ‘this is the best story ever’.

20,000 to 25,000 words: Dejection. I fret that the story is going nowhere and is utter garbage.

25,000 to 35,000 words: General happiness. I’m figuring things out, changing things, and generally enjoying writing.

35,000 to 60,000 words: Obsession. I won’t stop to eat, drink, or sleep. All I want to do is write. I’m completely in love with it.

60,000 words to the end: Boredom. Having figured out all the major scenes, I no longer see the point in writing. I’m thinking about my next idea. I will stall like a child who doesn’t want to go to bed to avoid my nightly writing session.

The current manuscript is at 62,000 words. Please send Tiger vibes of serenity and patience.