The beginning of the end (or the last scene, anyway)

Wrote for almost seven hours straight last night, 2,770 words, and a little before midnight I wrote the last word of the last scene of the first draft of the NaNo novel I started last November and then put away in a drawer. This is the first time I’ve finished writing a novel since I was nineteen (or twenty-one, depending on if you count my senior project). As a whole, it’s the longest thing I’ve written in eighteen years.

I stopped writing novels in favor of short stories at nineteen because I thought it would be easier to break in as a short story writer, because I thought short stories would be easier to workshop, because I thought it would force me to get better at the elements of character, scene, and plot through rapid repetition. After fifteen years, with none of that coming to pass in the way I imagined, it’s time to get back to writing what I love for its own sake and trusting that whatever skills I learn or success I have will come from doing what I love if they’re meant to be at all.

Today I do draft two, and then tomorrow I let it cool off while I go back to work on the new NaNo novel.

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