Oh, this is not going well. Conventional math says that I need about 7500 more words to be on schedule. Non-conventional math says that I’m over √56y(Ө⅛) words behind, which may not be as bad but looks a lot more intimidating. To help myself feel better, here is the first paragraph of my novel translated into Spanish, then back to English.
Murder. It was always the murder. It was never a braided kitten, or perhaps an accident of the hornada one. The firemen generally inside for the kittens were called, although, and the assassins were not generally great in merchandise cooked to the furnace. Of course, they had to eat at a certain point, but they ate probably something smooth like tofu or the British food. The dessert would consist of empanada of the apple… a murder of. But mainly empanada. Man, he was hungry. The detective reached closest in the car of the squadron to call after the reserve in the form of pies.