Last Saturday, I wrote the last 3000 words of my upcoming novel's last chapter. It thrilled me. I wanted to jump up and down in absolute glee, or dance in a circle with my two cats, holding their paws while singing Hallelujah, or open the bottle of vodka and treat myself to a shot (or two). But I didn't, because the work is far from over.
My novel still has few holes in random places, scenes that I skipped and gave lower priority than the others. Armed with the protection of an outline, I plotted and pansted my way through the novel, maintaining open arms to new discoveries as well. While the obsessive-compulsive in me would want to trudge through the chapters in order, I chose the riskier option. I braved the big bad boss despite his lackeys and minions all not taken care of.
Thinking about the end is a scary prospect. While the finish line is a beautiful and inviting thing, there are things surrounding and preceding it that may prompt people to question themselves before setting off. Sweat and effort are required to claim the prize. The journey is long and will take too much time. When we arrive at the end, it's THE END. There's nothing else to do. All these are crippling thoughts driving people away from taking that first step.Read More