See that big pile of pages on the left, that wee little pile of pages on the right? That little pile has only 54 pages in it. I’m closing in on the end of the book again. Reaching the last page doesn’t mean fourth draft is done, because there are two new short scenes I need to go back and write, and one other scene that still wants work but I hit a wall with it and decided to keep moving forward (which is exactly what I did with that scene when I was revising from second draft to third. I WILL unlock the fucking thing this time around.) After those new little scenes are written (and rewritten) and that troublesome scene is brilliantly revised (ahem), then there’ll be one more read through, and a good copyediting, and it’ll be on its way back to Gail. And Gail will proclaim it brilliant and ready and it will go out to publishers who will fall over themselves to acquire it and…and…yeah. Hmm. This road looks familiar. Though the last time Gail and I went down it together, manuscript in hand, I don’t recall there being quite so many editors selling apples and pencils on street corners. Ah, this should be interesting.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. A lot happens in these closing pages, and I’ve got plenty of work to do yet. And with my limited writing time, we’re probably looking at a couple of weeks to reach that last page, and another week or two for those new scenes and that pain-in-the-ass old scene, then a few days to read through and clean it up… Yeah. Way too early to say the end of the slog is in sight. But that steadily shrinking right-hand pile is a pleasing thing.

And the retyping method? It’s a keeper. It’s how I’ll be doing all early drafts from now on.