Actually, I'd like to believe I'm more than halfway to my novel. Maybe two thirds of the way. But not three quarters.
I've discovered that novel writing is a deceptive sort of business. I thought I was almost done a few months ago, and I was wrong. Almost. It's a funny word. You stretch it and stretch it and stretch it and then it snaps like a rubber band and you realise no, you're not almost done. You're just not done. Almost is a lie then, a word to make me feel closer to completion than I actually am. Sometimes I need those lies so I keep going.
322 pages in Word. Currently on the fourth draft. Currently rewriting the major subplot. Always more to do, more to fix in my quest to make it better, make it all it can be so I'm all I can be when I start looking for an agent and a publisher. I need to know the novel is the best I can make it. I can't get impatient and put it out before it's done. No premature birth here. The novel must be able to stand on its own, breathe on its own and it must be independent of me if someone else is to believe it.
A very small part of me thinks I should appreciate this time of almost, this time of half way. It's the journey, not the destination the old cliche screams. But enough is enough. Half way is not all the way. Almost is not done.
The end is coming and I will welcome it with open arms.
1 comment:
I think we all get to the point of.."I'll sure be glad when this is finished"...I believe anyone that writes or tries to write ends up on the same ship. It is the "I need to get it done before I get sick of it ship". When I read novels my major complaint is the beginning and the middle seem to go on forever and the end takes one chapter or less. Now I understand why.
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