While writing my first novel has been an adventure extraordinaire (who knew that characters would sometimes appear to be writing their own stories, while this author was left to catch up), there came a moment last week when I was glad this wasn't my first rodeo. I wrote the last sentence of my book. The sentence I always knew would be the last sentence. The sentence I had known was going to be the last sentence almost since I started writing it a year and a half ago. And then there it was. Written. On the page! WOO HOO!
Or maybe more like woo hoo, in little letters.
Because this time around, I know better. When I reached a similar milestone in writing my first book, there was a celebration. I felt giddy. I was ecstatic. I was ready for my life to change. I believe there was champagne.
Then I realized that that "ending" was only the first of many, many, many more moments of "I'm finished!" to come. Excepting even the obvious fact that the last sentence I wrote last week was of a draft, which means there are many months of revisions ahead, I also know, from experience, that writing a book is like climbing a mountain, and finishing the first draft is only summiting its first peak. The production of a book, for one, is a long and detailed process -- there are decisions to be made about title, about cover, there are copy edits and proofreads, there are galleys to review. But first I have to edit the you-know-what out of it, and it's about a hundred pages too long. It could take awhile.
All that being said, however, it still feels pretty damn good. I don't really have a prompt this time -- no big question for you all. Really, I just wanted to share it. To have somewhere to post a little woo hoo. So there it is.
Now I have to get back to work.