The End. First Draft Completed.

Earlier this week, I wrote those most coveted words on the page. I centered them, in caps, skipped a couple of lines and wrote: THE END

This is the first time I have actually completed a novel. I tend to underwrite so am happy with my 61k words and suspect that it will be 70k by the time I am through. My last two attempts yielded just under 50k words. Did getting to 50k make the novel real?  Did I suffer from fear of failure? Fear of success? Fear of hard work? Who cares, the thing is done and, finally, I am happy with this novel. I really believe in it and am thrilled to be on the second draft.

I have a box of commentary from my group of fellow writers that I plan to plough through, one comment at a time.

whose sharp ears and critical minds spot a false note,

and kudize (is that a word?) a good section, observation, etc

I take advantage of it all – anything to get into the world of my story. I visit with wonderful librarians who are happy to share historical documents and photos that bring me to another era. These images goad me into doing  justice to the mood and temperament of the times.

I am fortunate to live in a place with an enthusiastic supportive community who never fail to show up to celebrate. I think this is true of most places but that I have failed to ask for any support in the past.

Maybe I’m crazy but I think I might enjoy this next phase.  I am so looking forward to re-imagining the rooms, conversations, roles that my characters inhabit.

But this week, although I am exhausted and have an epic battle ahead, I no longer suspect  that I don’t have what it takes to actually get the job done, to avoid a weak plot, a saggy middle, a boring end. So many carnival acts.

I’m so glad I found Elle, my character, who has really been there for me. I now firmly believe that a compelling and powerful character is the single most important indicator of seeing a novel through to the end. It is so important to be attached to her plight. I want Elle to be understood regardless of what she does or is forced to endure.

She has to make sense of the world she lives in to survive and I have to be able to convey that on the page and the only way I can is to keep asking, keep writing. What a privilege! What a thrill!

So no matter how many snags I encountered, how much doubt I decided that I would just write it anyway no matter what.

My new goal is to have the revisions/editing completed by Christmas, starting right now.