I just passed the 200 page mark yesterday. It’s a good feeling, but it’s not as exciting as passing 100 pages or 50,000 words. And nothing is as exciting as getting to the last page and typing the wondrous words “The End.”
This has been pretty consistent for me through the writing of all three of my novels. My level of excitement can be charted like so:
Yes, I’m an xckd fan. But I think knowing and expecting the ups and downs of the writing process can be valuable. Optimism and energy will flag as you go along; that’s just the nature of the beast. You’ll have moments when you wonder if you’re just wasting your time, writing a bunch of drivel no one will ever want to read. And even when you’re not stewing in self-doubt, sometimes writing a novel is just plain boring.
But the rush you get when you see the finish line ahead of you is like nothing else. It’s worth all the drudgery that comes before it. The champagne (and you should really have some champagne) will never taste sweeter.