Back when I was a young teenager in need of acne treatments, I was able to finish a 350-page novel that wasn’t quite publishable in only a few months. In college, about 300 pages took me most of the length of my master’s program.
It’s been a tough row getting close to finishing anything since I reached my thirties. It’s like I’m getting slower instead of faster.
Of course, it’s also a bit of a myth. Most of my day jobs have been writing-related or require a strong writing component. I’ve won awards for the journalism I did for five years or so in rural Wisconsin. And I write a lot for my Messianic synagogue these days, too.
Still, there’s no feeling like writing a novel to completion. I need to start making that a reality… and a frequent one, too… if I ever want to get one in print.
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