The End.

2 small words. 6 letters total.

Meaningful.

Powerful.

I had a dream, a nightmare to be exact that woke me from my sleep, shaken and breathing hard. I wrote down what I remembered and tried to get back to sleep.

Part of the dream stuck with me.

That part would inspire me for 22 years. It would haunt my creative mind for 22 years.

I would write over 30+ versions of this story and I would discard over 512,000 words. My characters would change at least 6 times and I would have more start and stops than a NASCAR race on a rainy day.

But finally, after 22 years, I have completed the novel that I have carried in my creative soul for all this time.

As I sit here, writing this post, it’s bittersweet.

What do I do without my characters now?
(That I’m not really worried about, I’ve got more ideas waiting to be written.)

Holy crap. The 1st draft of my dream novel is fucking done. 22 years in the making.

It’s finally fucking done.

The 1st draft of 72,032 words.

Done.

The 1st draft is done.

The End.