Recently, I finished the first draft of a novel. Granted, any novelist already knows that means the novel isn’t truly finished, but alas, finishing that first draft is the first hurdle to novel freedom. There are a lot of emotions that come along with that moment. Even if it is the tenth novel you’ve written, it never gets old. These were my emotions.
When You Hit The Last Chapter
Oh, god. I’m about to complete this thing. Like, this thing is actually going to be done. Not done, done. But done enough for now-done. For at least a month done. Then, I have to edit. Wait. Focus. You’re not done yet. Finish before you worry about editing.
When You Hit The Last Sentence
And then all the characters were dead. Just kidding. *Deletes* (Insert heart-warming or gut-wrenching completion or cliffhanger.) Yep. That was sad. I’m a genius. (A genius who’s…
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