Eleven o’clock this morning, I wrote the last word of the first draft of my novel. About 300 pages, and 87,000 words. I didn’t even plan it to be a certain length, but my goal was at least 300 pages, and I got there. I seriously can’t believe it. For some reason I remember starting it in August, but I can’t think exactly what year. My guess is it’s been over three years. I took a few long breaks, but I knew eventually it would be done. And now it is.
For so long, it’s been something on the backburner. “I’m writing a novel,” I’d tell people. But it never quite felt true, I never felt like I’d accomplished much, until I realized how many pages I’d written. But it was always unfinished. Now, draft one is done. I’m not saying the story is set in stone now; it certainly isn’t. It’s what my teacher’s assistant said last year, a “shitty first draft.” They always are that way, and if you can’t get over that, you’ll get stuck trying to make it perfect the first time. I’ve put the mess of ideas in my head to paper, and started organizing it into a coherent story. Finishing any sort of writing thing for me is a big deal, since like so many other writers, it’s hard for me to end things. I get bored of the story, or get stuck, and I get another idea and start writing something else. This time, I stuck to it, and got it done. I’ve got to treat myself somehow today. Maybe a nice Starbucks mocha, or a trip to the bookstore, or a new notebook. Something.
I think I’ll take the advice of my creative writing teacher last term and put the manuscript aside for a while, now that it’s done. Let the ideas bounce around in my head for a few months. Maybe I’ll start the second draft during the summer. My work is in no way over. But I’ve come to a major milestone.
Photo: A man was flying kites at the beach yesterday, and I snatched a few pictures. Spring is certainly on its way! Though, I wish we’d gotten more snow this year. Call me crazy, but next year I’ll make a point of it to be somewhere cold over the winter.