On Finishing a Novel

Well, as of ten minutes ago, I just finished writing a novel.  How am I feeling right now?  A little empty.  A little sad.  A little worried that my ending sucks, but I’ll save that for editing.

I started this book nine months ago, after reading some random Wikipedia page about stone circles in Ireland.  It’s weird to think that Wikipedia was the cause of 100, 524 words and 3/4 of a year.

I never thought I was going to end this.  Just last week, I was cringing at writing the ending, grappling with who I should kill off, and wondering if I even liked this book anymore.  About three hours ago, I just sat down and said to myself, “I’m ending this.  Now.”  Sure, my ending’s a little abrupt, but at least it’s done.  And I have to say this is one of the strangest feelings in the world.  I feel accomplished, but at the same time I have another daunting task- editing.

This is a short post, but I just had to write something tonight.  I’ll (hopefully) keep you guys updating as I edit, but finals are coming up, so we’ll see how that goes.


Good night,