I just finished the first draft of a new novel in two and a half months.
And immediately copied it to my USB key:
While I have started many novels and written many short stories, Frost Moon is only the second novel I’ve managed to complete — thank you, Nanowrimo. The first was a much longer epic science fiction novel, homo centauris, that I wrote over fifteen years ago (has it been that long?) but which I never managed to get published. I worked on several others since then, but the closest to completion is an earlier Nanowrimo entry, tentatively titled Deliverance, set in the same universe, which I plan to finish while my alpha readers tackle Frost Moon.
Whew. I feel like celebrating — but why do I not feel like taking a break?