Okay, it looks that I've finished 300+ pages last three months. What began as a chapter expanded to more than 200 page-long what I don't know. Another chapter I started a week ago is now growing monstrously, reaching 65 pages and certainly needs 20+ pages to conclude. Yesterday I wrote about 10 pages. Today I spent 8 hours to read the manuscripts and so far I read about 90 pages. These pages are full of quotations and footnotes, with a handful of claims repeated again and again and perhaps not much evidence, but there is some sort of arguments, at least recognizable patterns and rhythms I orchestrated, and not a mere heap of unrelated or tenuously strung together sentences and paragraphs. For all this I still am unable to have a sense that I'm getting closer to the end. I get lost. Certainly I can and will produce another 100 or so pages by the end of this month--still so many things to write, so many gaps to fill in--but now I have no idea where I'm heading, or even whether I'm moving at all. I have only one desire: to discharge what I have stored past three, five, eight years and finish. After that, I could return hundreds of books I borrowed from the library and kept for years...Anyway, it's not bad to find that I can write readable sentences in English (if I'm not mistaken), which I never imagined I could do ten years ago.
