Not-so-secretly I’ve been working on a novel. My second, actually. But it’s my first completed, because the other is cooling off on my thumb drive while I figure out how to beat it into submission.
So on June 20th I wrote THE END for the first time and it was fantastic. I can’t describe the feeling. It’s completely different from one of my photographs, because there’s no “moment” of finish with those. Hell, I’m never finished. Some of them I’ll be tinkering with until I die.
But writing THE END doesn’t mean I’m done with this novel, either, because now I’m so deep in revisions that it’s all I can think about. I woke up the other morning muttering about the word blistering being in the wrong scene. Seriously.
It’s just nice to reach an actual milestone and feel that sense of accomplishment.
Oh, and another milestone passed; my birthday.
So yesterday the country turned 236, I turned 26, and the wheel in the sky keeps on turning.
