20,000 words into this thing, and I'm both flabbergasted and just plain aghasted at my own stamina. My progress is both lackluster and spectacular, depending on how I'm feeling at any particular moment. Writing is like that. It's a constant flux of self-degradation, loneliness, pure elation, willpower wrangling, and guilt. It's hard to really describe the writing process to someone who's never sat down to crap out a book. Poss...