I’ve been writing 2500 words everyday. I wake up while it is still dark and I write. Even if, on some days, the words are pure tosh, and I don’t know what I’m doing and where I’m going with the story, I write on and pat my own back for sticking to the schedule. I tell myself that it shows character to go on, and a part of me wants to know if a character heading for the edge of the cliff is the one I really want. I have finished five first drafts in this manner in the last three months - trumpets! - and the idea of revisiting them for the rewriting is a bit – okay, a lot - terrifying. Right now, I just want to wallow in the self-congratulatory mode and not think of the steep uphill climb ahead.