It won’t be long now. Another day or two and I’ll cross the finish line on the first draft of my third manuscript. I’ve already visualized it: 6:45am, my writing spot in the kitchen. Kids are stirring, coffee cup is empty, only bread crumbs on the paper plate next to my laptop (I love English Muffins). Work phone starting to buzz. About 85,000 words in the hopper. Deep breath.
Type: The end-ish.
It’s just that there is so much more to do. I don’t want to fool myself. To the 85,002: I may never see some of you again.
In some respects, I’m afraid to finish, which is probably why I’m writing this instead of that. Maybe I’m nervous about the work to come: the rewrites, revisions, and beta reads. Maybe I’m afraid of rejection, that it just won’t go anywhere when I truly type the end and add the “-ish” to my deleted scenes folder.
Maybe I just feel like getting eternaldomnation going again because I had to renew my domain name. Hey www, $18 bucks a year isn’t going to pay for itself, you know.
Truth is, I’m not afraid, at all. I know this time, things are just different. I’ve learned so much about the craft by writing two stories that, for the time being, just didn’t work. This time, instead of setting out to tell a story, I set out to tell a story that worked.
I know, not revolutionary, but for me, transformative.
Protagonists can move forward in a story through a single revelation. For me, it’s been that. Write a story that works, and that’s what I’m going to do.
As soon as I can get past the -ish, that is.