In 2010, I penned 28,900 words. All year. Four stories.
I skipped 2011. Roleplay ate my brain.
In 2012, I penned 36,200 words. All year. Three stories.
In under two weeks, I've scribbled 27,600 words.
Now, these aren't "complete" words. Just because a story has an END at the bottom doesn't mean it's finished. I'm banging out words so fast that I'm sure they suck, and whatever number I end up with will undoubtedly be revised up or down as I actually squish these things into some semblance of "good."
But I like this process. It's working. I have outlines, I have plans, I hit the Great Swampy Middle and don't have time to get bogged down, and I never get to the point where I hate a story because I'm not flailing around trying to figure out what's Next.
It's still early days; I'm not halfway through the month and the edits haven't pinged my radar yet. Hell, for a panicked moment yesterday, I couldn't even remember how Angry Bitter Angel ended. And it's not easy.
But it's working.