I Made It To The End

I made it to the end of my novel yesterday. I am not thrilled with the last couple pages. I feel like I was sort of aiming for the last line and it feels a little jammed in there, but I feel confident that I will be able to work it out later on. I went took myself to dinner and stayed up late watching crappy TV. However, I was up bright and early-- my brain wants to work on the novel some more.

There is work to be done. Now is the time to take it through from the top. This novel is written in two voices. They don't alternate. It's more like one book, then the other. I need to spend at least two weeks combing through book one. Then two more weeks combing through book two.

I am really forcing myself not to start now. I am insane with this book. I feel like it is living inside my head.

My beloved mentor, Ron Carlson, used to say "do what you have to do in order to survive the draft." He said that because getting to the end of a novel or a short story isn't a "given." Many times they die on the vine. The way he phrases it makes it seem like YOU are the one who will have to scratch to survive, but really it's the novel.

Whenever I sit still like now and think about how challenging it was to get to this point, and I think about how many times the novel almost died, I almost cry. Even now.