The first draft of Township is done. Twenty-five chapters, 101,163 words, 281 manuscript pages. This is the largest and longest anything I've ever done. Part of me is still surprised that I was able to do it.
I started writing this novel two years, two months, and twenty-three days ago. It shouldn't have taken this long. Why it did is a long, boring story that's been going on for thirty years or so. Suffice it to say that this wasn't just about learning how to develop characters and themes, pace scenes, and flesh out a plot; it was also about learning how to get out of my own way.
There's plenty more work to be done. There's heavy revision to be done on the first half or so, and no doubt plenty in the second as well. Then I've got to round up some beta readers. There'll be three drafts in all, although I'll probably keep only one on my computer when it's all over. And there's the whole process of getting it published, which will be an adventure in itself.
I also need to come up with a new title. My mother doesn't like this one, and while I don't often let her make these sorts of decisions, she's happens to be right this time.
All that can wait, though. I'm going to take Stephen King's advice and let it sit for a bit before I start the revisions. Not long, but enough to let my head clear. I've got another writing project to work on in the meantime (yes, Jeff and Alex, that one).
Right now, though, I'm going to bask in the new and heady sense of accomplishment. I rather enjoy the feeling so far.