Two weeks to go before a final, readable draft of DUST. Well, I hope. Otherwise, I’m going to spend my two weeks of vacation writing. Which I won’t mind, but the missus might.
It feels nearly impossible for it all to come together, but then every draft does at this stage of the game. I wish there was some way to time-lapse what follows. Disjointed scenes become jointed. Missing chapters get written. The final act takes shape. The very last scene is edited over and over. And then four or five full passes through material that’s already had a few of them.
It always appears like it won’t happen, won’t become a book, and then it does in so swift a manner as to make your head spin. I suppose it’s like making sausage, though. If any of you saw the butchering, you might lose your appetite.