I’ve written the last paragraph.
It’s just the beginning and it’s not even a full first draft, but it feels like an achievement and I need to share it. Writing’s a lonely business and most of my pals suspect I’ve been loafing around and reading novels these past eight months. My “book” has become an in-joke! And that’s absolutely fine because I’m not comfortable describing myself as a writer… yet! Journalist? That’s different; I’ve spent 30 years being paid to write and broadcast.
But finishing the last chapter gives me the impetus to start editing, rewriting and checking on facts. I’ll be more confident in contacting all the professionals who’ve helped so far and I’ll speak to others. There’s still so much to do, and many words to write, but at least there’s a structure now. I can finally see the light.
I started my research in March and took chunks of time out to walk and travel but other than that, writing this story has been my “work” this year, and I’ve learned a lot. It was a mistake to start without a plot but then I didn’t know there were going to be so many words! And I hadn’t a clue how it would end – until it did.
I hope I’m not tempting fate by setting a deadline now, but I intend to have a first draft by the end of the year. And when my family come home at Christmas I hope I’ll have the courage to show them what I’ve been doing all these months.
Now there’s a scary prospect.