Almost Done With The Novel

From the time I woke up yesterday (Saturday) to the time I went to sleep around five this morning, I wrote two chapters in one long sitting. I took breaks, I watched some Arrested Development to clear my head, and of course I had to eat occasionally, but I wrote sixteen pages by forcing myself to work until I collapsed. If sixteen pages doesn't sound like a lot, consider how long an average double-spaced college paper is. Twenty pages? Twenty-five? Sixteen times two is, well, my eyes were too bloodshot to do the math on the piece of paper I'd started drawing doodles on with a magic marker, but you get the idea.

Why am I pushing so hard to finish it up? Because I want to have a draft done well before I go home for Christmas (so readers can read it and give me feedback), and also because I yearn for the day when I wake up and there's nothing left to write. I can just run around naked at the zoo and enjoy the freezing cold wind on my face, instead of holing up in the apartment or a cafe and writing writing writing. Even unemployment happens for a reason. I've always wanted to write a novel, and now I'm this close to finishing a first draft of a real, honest-to-God publishable book. I now steel myself for the climb up the final hill.