How does it feel to have a book completed, finally?
A bit déjà vu, for one thing.
- A couple of springs ago I set down the last words “harder than the gate’s steel” and realized that was the last chapter of The High Road, that I’d actually pushed the story to the end.
- And then early last year, the night a massive round of revisions came to an end with restructuring the climactic battle—and the agony of finding I was too worn out to write the last pages that Sunday night, and had to stop for some sleep (don’t judge) and sneak the rest in before work Monday.
So “finished” is a recurring thing. If you don’t know da Vinci’s rule “Never finished, only abandoned,” trust me, you will if you write.
Enlarging. Pushing Mark and Angie on their different journeys can fill the head with some odd things.
- Trying to see the world like Angie does. It’s not that she’s fearless, but a problem looks different to someone who can’t see a problem without already getting a good-enough idea of what to do about it. It’s a rare knack, but the world might be a brighter place for all of us if we stopped losing those first seconds in confusion and outrage.
- Remembering to make Mark talk to himself at odd moments. If that wasn’t part of his nature, the whole story might not have happened.
Coming home. Most of my life I’ve been dreaming of the certain kind of flying that goes in this book—not rocketing around freely but leaping or catching the wind. So looking back and seeing there’s finally a book of that sensation feels like I’m starting to pay my muse back for all the fun she’s given me.
Discouraging.
- Good grief, I started this book years ago! I’ve proven I can write a chapter a week if I push myself, even working full-time, so why don’t I have the whole series done by now?
- Well, half of it must have been that one chapter I started rewriting the moment I finished it, every time…
- And I still can’t walk up to strangers and say, “Hi, I’m an author.” Maybe after a few more books.
Startling.
- That cover. That cover, Mark dropping down along a skyscraper with power crackling around him… there’s nothing like opening up a jpeg and meeting the guy I’ve been bullying for so long.
Dissatisfying.
- The book’s done, what am I supposed to do with my mornings and weekends now? Sure, there’s a stack of reading and an endless supply of TV I keep hearing about, but could you really just go back to taking in stories after so long creating them?
- (Alright, that one isn’t quite true. I’ve still got the next book to build, so it’s only my evenings that are oddly free again. For now.)
And then…
Humbling.
- I’ve still got a few words of advice coming in from this author I know, so we’ll see…
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