Huh? So That's What I Was Doing In November

I started reading my rough draft last night and for the first time it really began to sink in that I wrote a book.

Granted, I knew I had a big pile of paper (250 pages) stacked up, but, for all I knew, they could have said "All work and no play makes Chris something something" (Go crazy? Don't mind if I do!) over and over again.

About half an hour in I had a small pile of pages stacking up on my left side, but the pile on the right didn't seem any shorter. Two hours later I was about halfway through the book (and halfway through the pile).

General reactions:

• There was some stuff that I didn't recall writing, but mostly a lot of typos and sentences where I'd leave off a eensy-weensy word like "not" or "never" and the meaning of the sentence would be reversed.
  
  
• Some sentences made no sense; I still know what I was trying to say, but it was apparent that I came nowhere close to saying it.
  
  
• Some chapters had intriguing ideas mentioned at the beginning that went nowhere as I rushed to get the story in.
  
  
• One chapter had POV all over the map (omniscient instead of the third-person limited I used everywhere else) that could be fixed if I give my dead/then-not highschooler an out-of-body experience, but a) that's kind of cliche and b) it would mean she doesn't get to go to the creepy red waiting room.
  
  
• Far too much dialogue, not nearly enough narrative.
  
  
• Needs more action, more sense of impending doom, more suspense.
  
  
• But, for the most part, I'm liking what I see.