Which means that these 33 note cards may comprise somewhere between one hundred and one hundred and fifty pages of actual text. A hundred and fifty would be better, because that means I can still write to size. (Ahhh, my days as a fluff page reporter did turn out ot be useful for something, after all.) And if I keep turning out 1500-2000 words a day, I should have this thing put to bed in draft by mid July, which means I can give it two weeks to settle before I start ripping it apart in August. ANd not have to be writing while I'm at Comicon, which would be nice.
I can actually see the end of the book from here. It's a surreal, blinking in too-bright sunlight sort of a feeling. And there's a profound, almost hysterical relief underlying it. Because there were times when I really wasn't certain at all that I could write this book.
And now I'm sure I can. It may not be a Hugo winner, but it will be done, and it will be mine, and it will at the least be craftsmanlike, even if it's not brilliant.
And I won't have that terrible sinking feeling that I'm about to fail at my first big test as a professional writer.
Heck, maybe I'll even kick the imposter syndrome for a little while.