Well, this year, for the sixth year in a row, I exceeded last year’s wordcount. I wrote every day. I wrote more than two hours a day, on average. And I wrote about 2,100 words a day. And I did it without a corresponding reduction of time associated with reading. All that is good. However, my output wasn’t amazing. I finished five short stories and two novels. Where did all the other words go? I honestly have no idea, but my guess is that it went into lots and lots of false starts: hundreds of thousands of words of false starts. I’ve written the first 1/4th of so many novels this year. I’m not really sure what happened. I think I’m undergoing some change in my process and in my aesthetic standards. I’m writing differently, and I’m writing different stuff. Hopefully, this is just a bumpy period and next year’s writing will be a little more self-assured.