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Barely Readable

Progress report

Today The Rub, at 28,626 words, surpasses my previous novel draft of December, which at 28,344 words was somewhat shy of the third I had claimed for it. That’s a net of 282 words—not bad for seven and a half months of work.

Back in February it was a difficult decision to start over. Now, with the two documents at about the same length and The Rub in a state more or less what I had envisioned for it when I restarted, it’s a good time to sit down and consider how the new novel stacks up against its predecessor, which is precisely why I goaded Ross, the only individual unlucky enough to read my drafts, to proclaim, “Yes, Aaron, starting over was the right decision.” But he wouldn’t be goaded. He doesn’t care for goading.

So I’ll just have to toot my own horn and say, yes, self, it was the right decision. Totally right. Couldn’t have been righter, self, if I do say so myself.

Next week: Why I’m throwing away everything I’ve written and starting over from scratch