Dealing with an Ending

Almost almost finished with this draft of the novel I started last fall. Almost.

There happens to be a light at the end of the tunnel. And no, I’m not talking about the headlights of an oncoming truck. Although, sometimes over the past few months of rewriting this sucker, it certainly has felt like I’m heading directly towards an incoming 18-wheeler. But I’ll refrain from such negative thoughts (for now).

The draft is finished, the only thing left for the moment is my version of an epilogue. But the more I read it, the more I question whether or not it ties a too neat of a bow around this little wordy present I’m going to eventually hand out into the world.

I’m an innate tweaker. I can spend an hour on one sentence because it just doesn’t sound right no matter how many times I say it aloud. Which is one of the main reasons why this draft has taken me a lot longer than I anticipated.

It also doesn’t help that the first draft was written rather shittily and needed a lot of cleaning up and rewriting. But all drafts are like that, right?

Only about 600 words remaining. The countdown is on. Then I get to do it all over again starting this Sunday.


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