Technically, December just became the most verbose written month of my life.

And it’s been here for eight and a half days.

I have contributed over 35,000 words (~140 pages) to the novel in the last eight and a half days. This is technical, because a decent chunk of that (~9,000 words) was pre-written in one form or another. So the pace is a little misleading, though still blistering. I have been able to process very little other than American Dream On this month.

I have a whopping two chapters to go. The total piece is over 140,000 words and looks like it will be shy of 150,000 in final form. Which is good, because I’m totally not ready to edit a 600 page book. 580 pages should be much more manageable.

I’m a little loopy at this point. But I’ve written 6,500 words in the last 24 hours alone, so I’m going to let myself slide. Slide into bed. And then wake up and eat, sleep, and breathe more novel.

You haven’t seen euphoria till you’ve seen a finished novel from a manic depressive. Sometime this week, watch out people.

And it looks like my streak of being ahead of deadlines will be intact, unless it somehow takes me 5.5 days to finish two chapters after I’ve knocked out 11.5 chapters in 8.5 days (1.35 chapters/day). Not that I’m trying to tempt fate or anything. But this would say I should be done this time Friday morning and that would be just grand by me.

If you can’t tell, I really need to sleep.