I just finished this year’s editorial pass of everything I’ve written in books One, Two, and Three. That’s roughly 305,000 words: just over the cumulative total of The Two Towers and The Return of the King—which means the entire tetralogy will probably end up roughly equal in length to The Lord of the Rings (or a single Brandon Sanderson novel, lol). In terms of technical errors—typos, comma splices, etc.—what I caught can be numbered on one hand. What I was doing with my revisions was refining the clarity and power of my language, making sure it flowed naturally and effortlessly, sanding out any syntactical rough spots. I’m very pleased with where it’s at.
Now, as the sander falls silent and I wait for word from six publishers whom I’ve queried, it’s time to forge ahead into the ridiculously epic conclusion of Book Three. The board is set, its pieces arrayed. The proverbial fan is huge, and revved up, and deafening, and I’m just standing here holding a bucket of poo.
Won’t somebody warn my poor protagonists to duck and cover?