There's nothing like that rush of a first draft. When you're not concerned with the little crap, you just plow along, laying down markers and finally building the world that's been in your head for so long. I know this euphoria won't last forever, but for now, I can just lie to myself.
I know everyone has a different process. I love to know how other writers create. For me, it's detailed outlines and thinking and thinking and thinking, and then the writing begins. I can't imagine any other way, but I've been around long enough now to recognize that there are ten million valid ways to produce a good book. Shoot, as long as the final book is good, the process doesn't matter at all. If you have to write in blood on Kleenex by the light of the fourth full moon while drunk, I'm on board if the book is good.
It's taken me a few years to recognize my own process. Once I start, I hate stopping. For anything. I aim for 1,000 words a day, more or less, every day, seven days a week. I type fast, and because I've already plotted the story, this doesn't take long. Usually about 45 minutes a day. I'll first draft this book probably by the Fourth of July.
Although it might sound like it, I'm not simply transcribing notes from an outline. Despite all that prep work I do, the real, undeniable quality -- the magic -- always happens during the writing. That's when the words are actually there, when I can finally access the pace and flow and phrasing for the story. But I need the outline and the prep work to provide structure to my work. I need to not worry about the big direction so I can spend time on the little embroidery.
I love first drafts. I really do. I'm always surprised, though. Because the first draft usually feels like butter. Smooth. Unctuous. Fun and readable. But weirdly enough, very little of the first draft will probably survive the editing process.