Okay, so the short story is that I hit the 1/4 mark in my new book, Love of Your Life. (As if you didn't know the title by now...)
But I ask you to think back a bit into the past. Because, as prolific as I've been in the last year or so, there was once a time in my life when writing did not come easily. (Hell, that admission should even throw old friends for a loop.)
1988. The year I got married... the first time... It was also the year I finished my first novel, My Side. The novel stank on ice (no shit, man) and took me four years to write. FOUR YEARS! To be honest, I spent most of my time talking about the book I was writing, rather than writing it. (Um... unlike now...)
The next book took me three years - then, two years - then, a year... it's something you get more efficient at as you go... kind of like...
After my divorce, my continued writing was far from a foregone conclusion. I didn't write for two years. (Imagine that!) I only started again because of the pressure of some really great people (Hello Annie and Lori if you're reading this.) and... well... vanity. And I got to kiss women, so...
But it wasn't until Vicky that my writing started coming out this steadily. I'm a fucking machine.
And here I am writing The Courtship of Eddie's Fa - er - I mean Love of Your Life. (Okay, well, that's how it feels!) After 22,500 words (the goal is 90k), we've seen the death of the dues ex machina up to her burial and much more. But I tell you this to demonstrate how different all this is for me. Normally, I'd go from death to burial in a single sentence! (The movie version will have this in the first five minutes!)
I'm halfway to halfway... I'll keep you posted.