I finished it. I finished the first draft of my book.
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I sat down this morning with the beginning of Chapter 21 blank and waiting, and about 45 minutes ago, after 4,600 words, I wrote THE END. And it really is THE END for a lot of things, for me. It’s the end of wondering if I could ever write a book. It’s the end of seven months of near-constant work, either at the computer or in my brain, to get to this day. And it’s the end of the first part of my journey with these people who have set up residence in my head.
It’s also a lot of firsts and starts. The start of the next step – revision. The first time I’ll offer up a copy to anyone I know in exchange for some critiques. And maybe even the start of planning out the next installment in the series, which I already can’t wait to jump into.
When I wrote the last sentence, after making sure that I really did want to write it, I stared it for a long time. And I had a whole bunch of conflicting emotions. First and foremost, I’m proud of myself. The first time someone told me that I should be an author was, I think, around the time I was ten years old. So this has been a long road. Secondly, I’m really, really happy to be done and moving on. It’s been a huge undertaking and a lot of times I wondered if I would end up giving up. Third, I’m bittersweet. I’ve been doing this since February and now it’s just over? In that respect, I’m glad there are still two more books to go in the series, because that means I don’t really have to say goodbye for a long time. Still, I had a bit of a cry. And fourth, I’m tired as hell. I stayed up late and wrote like crazy because I thought I could get it done, and I was right.
So that’s that. Onward and upward, as they say. Today’s a pretty big deal.