You know that point you get to when you're writing this great story,
and you know what's going to happen next,
you can see the ending,
you can feel it
and you want to hurryupandwriteit!
So you scramble, write it all down,
you drink like 8 cups of coffee and
write as fast as your little fingertips can manage, until they have blisters!
and then your done!
Right! Right! Yay!
Except your word count is too short.
and you forgot about that one really important scene
and you forgot about Bob, he hasn't been seen in four chapters
But you don't care, because your first draft is done!
Victory is yours!!
And you have a growing list of other novels you really want to get started on.
So you have your proof-reader take a look,
Maybe it's your spouse or your best friend.
And you pace around their back while they read, and you stare at their face and try to figure out what they're thinking.
And they say:
"What happened to Bob? Did he die or something?"
"Wasn't there some really important relic you were chasing around? Where did it go?"
"I thought you were going to put some sex-ing in this, I'm left feeling so... tense."
What you really wanted them to say was: "This is Amaze-balls!"
But instead they're like:
What do you do?
I go back to the beginning and start editing. Just knowing that the novel is almost complete is enough to settle the rising excitement/anxiety/panic/relief feelings.
And this is the stage I'm at now.
Which explains how that entire bottle of wine got drank last night.
And now my liver is crying.