I have just finished my novel.
Draft #4, dramatically different from Draft #3, the one I think may be marketable, 742 pages long. I have had my CD on repeat for an hour, while writing the last chapter and the epilogue.
I don’t know how I feel. Jubilant and sad, excited and tired, energized and exhausted. Astonished. Accomplished. Grateful.
I was crying as I typed the epilogue. I hope people cry when they read it (and not from boredom or pain!).
I am so glad I have a sequel already started. It’s comforting to know I get to spend more time with these people I love so desperately. Sometimes they are more real to me than most people in my life (my parents and best friend excluded).