Ah, dear readers, today I am truly content. Because today -- only moments ago, in fact, I finished the final draft of my novel.
Yes,
I am aware that I have made this claim before. I am aware, too, that
in the event of acquisition by an agent/publisher, more edits will be
made to this piece of work. But those are edits to be made in another
time, and more importantly, at least in part, by another person. As for
me, I am finished.
I am sure that the novel is not yet perfect. I
know for a fact that if I were to look at it again tomorrow, I would
find a hundred new problems to fix. I could edit this novel for the
rest of my life and never be completely satisfied. Because as I grow as
a writer, and as a person, my goals for my work will also shift, my
expectations grow, my red pen (actually, I use a hot pink pen for
editing) scribble liberally. I would be like that director in the movie
"Synecdoche, NY," every day saying to myself, "NOW I know what to do!
Now I can make my novel perfect!"
It will never be perfect. And
while I'm trying to make it perfect, I'm losing precious time I could be
using to write something new, something that excites me, something that
obsesses me, something that I'm not sick to death of the sight of. So
that's what I intend to do.
Expect new stories soon, reader.
Expect rants about how much I hate having writer's block. Or about how
many different choices I have for what to write next. Or about not
knowing what I want to communicate with my new novel.
Yes, friends. The best part about being done with the old novel is getting to write a new one!
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