a long road

 Yesterday evening, on February 12th 2025, the first draft of my second novel was completed! Now the road is far from finished, and I’ll have much editing to do, but for now it is an accomplishment. 

At 135,662 words, it is by far and large the longest thing I have ever written. Double that of the length of my first novel. I started wring this draft on June 25th 2024, so it’s been a bit of a long ride. Yes, I keep the dates of these things written down. It helps to give myself a sense of perspective. I’ve lived a lot of life since staring this draft, from mountain top high, to valley of the lowest, but I’ve arrived at a deep breath. That’s how finishing felt, like a heavy breath. 

I didn’t really want to finish, I was sad once I typed the last words. This story has been living in the back of my mind since I was a teenager. The characters almost as real to me as my own flesh and blood friends. It’s a strange part of it all, and I’m sure I sound a little crazy to some, but to me it is so real. So finishing, arriving at the end, felt long and sad. 

There were times while in the middle of the draft, where all I wanted was to be done, knowing I’d reach this point and be sad. I don’t much like endings, I haven’t for a very long time already, probably something that happened in my childhood. But I don’t like endings, I’ll put off watching the final episode, reading the last few chapters, because I don’t want it to be over, I don’t want to leave. But all things must be allowed to rest, so I wrote the final words, in revolt of my heavy heart. 

It truly is not all so bad, so hard, I’m simply one who leans into melancholy. It is good too, a sense of relief oddly enough. I can’t quite remember how I felt finishing my first novel but I don’t think it was quite like this. I certainly felt this one coming, and still could do little to stop it. It was always going to be this way. 

I think that’s what happens to artists when they finish something that holds so tightly to their heart, even if they don’t always talk about it. Maybe I’m the exception, or an outlier, or maybe I’m simply a loud one, but I want to talk about it. How the endings of things make me feel, as an artist and as a human. 

Because so much of life is built, and falls, to beginnings and endings, it’s important to look it in the face. Even when it hurts, especially when it hurts. There is no beginning without an end, and there is no end without a beginning. A fundamental truth my childlike heart, that still weeps after fairness, has a hard time holding onto. 

For now, as I try my most gently to piece my heart to together in peace, I’ll embark on the publishing process for my first novel. A truly earth shaking prospect, a terrifying idea, but a necessary one. I’ve a goal in mind, one I’ll keep to myself awhile longer, and I title I am still dissatisfied with, but know the times do change. And with them comes progress, and hopefully the releasing of books for all to read. 

I am sad to say, it may be a long while yet before this one is free of me and able to be held in your hands, for the first draft is but one solid step toward the end. Until then, peacefully await the release my first story, the one that too hold a piece of my heart.