The outline has been set up for a couple of months now, and I've even begun the initial draft on my next stand-alone novel, which is good. I got myself about 12k words along, making steady progress.
Then, my wife and I had our son.
Since then, I've made literally zero progress on this new manuscript. Life just takes over, and for small-timers with regular jobs like myself, the production schedule sometimes takes a heavy hit. But I can tell you, I've been slowing down for about three years.
Early in my career, I was cranking out two or three books per year, drafting and re-drafting and editing and submitting CONSTANTLY. Sometimes, I came close to burning myself out completely.
Now, though, I feel guilty about slowing down to a pace of about one book per year on average.
But why feel guilty about that, when so many of my colleagues in the realm of storytelling are lucky to put out 4 or 5 titles across their entire career? The number of works isn't important; the quality of the narrative is what matters, and its free expression.
Long live fiction!
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