Last night, at approximately 5:30 PM, something momentous happened: I finished rewriting Novel #2 with a final tally (for this draft, at least) of 67,841 words.
Allow me to translate this into Excited Teenage Girl for a moment:
OH MY GOD, I, LIKE, TOTALLY FINISHED MY BOOK AGAIN! AND NOW I GOT TO, LIKE, EDIT, AND IT’S GOING TO BE A. MAZ. ING. Totes.
*coughcough* But, seriously, I finished my book again. And now I get to finish it again! I got it printed and bound for $35, it’s ready today, and I get to go into my grammar despot, editor-in-the-making wonderland.
Is it weird that I’m way more excited about editing than drafting? I feel like it’s weird.
I also feel like I don’t care.
BECAUSE I’M DONE REWRITING. AND NOW I CAN FINALLY EDIT.
I love today.