One is worried about burning out

The other is excited about seeing a project through in fewer than 4 years for once

Just started Therapist volume 4, the last one I’ve planned out. I keep saying that because I’d like to leave the door open for other stories or projects in the future, but I will have finished what I set out to do.

There’s more road ahead: books 2 and 3, written back to back, still need edits and beta reads. But I think I’m good for it. I’m on day 65 of writing every day, averaging about 1,300 words a day; 85,000 total across this series, a little bit of Healers, and some errata. Reminding myself that I’ve done longer streaks than that. Just not lately.

Sure, plenty of people write 5,000 or 10,000 words every single day. We call them Real Serious Authors. Let’s note that I’m not one of those. I’m just some asshole with a keyboard. I’m working on establishing better habits like outlining and consistency. I’m learning how to put together a story that moves from point A to point B in a linear fashion, but also gives enough (but not too much) time for the story to breathe. It’s really hard, y’all. Hah.

Therapist volume 3 has one more chapter left in the first draft. I think I have the skeleton of an outline for volume 4, which should be the last, at least in this hell-bent sprint I’ve been doing. (55 days of writing every day, totaling about 65,000 words across various projects. Which is a slightly-slower-than-Nanowrimo pace.)

I’ve accepted internally that at least some of this is a way to get my mind off the not-catastrophic, just-moderately-annoying, probably-permanent health stuff I’ve been dealing with. I’m pursuing medical care as far as I can, but day to day, sending myself off into a mostly-fluffy fantasy story sure beats stewing in my own worries.

One of the themes of volume 3 is how escapism can become unhealthy. Self-own.