Although far from wordy enough. Chains is over 11,000 words now, growing reasonably steadily albeit insufficiently quickly.
This is the first book I've tried writing without some kind of outline in a long time. Flying blind! Instruments only! Zero visibility! Strange vibrations coming from somewhere! Tower, talk me down! Oh, wait, I'm also the tower. Uh oh.
I do know where I'm going, in a general way, and I have nebulous ideas about the signposts along the way. (I'm not going to even try to make that fit with the flying-on-instruments metaphor.)
Right now, the characters are moving along the plot curve, such as it is, mostly by means of lots of extended dialog, banter, and occasional deep thoughts. Which is a kind way of saying that nothing much has actually happened. At this rate, I'll end up with a first draft of some immense length -- 200,000 words? more? -- which will require serious reworking to change it to lotsa stuff happening and serious cutting to make it a salable length.
I'm enjoying the current writing process, and I think I'll enjoy the rewriting process even more. Oddly, I'm enjoying myself more with this book than I have in quite a while. I guess I'd forgotten how exhilarating instrument flying can be.
Wait! What's that looming up out of the mist? Yaaaaaaaaahhhhh!