About a week and a half ago, I realized that I was almost done with the first draft of my story – the first novel I have ever attempted to write. I was lying on my bed, typing furiously into my novel’s draft on my computer, and it hit me: I was almost done.
Now this may not seem like big, groundbreaking news. But for me, it definitely was. It was the first time I actually saw my draft not as just a bunch of words – a (sometimes never-ending) work in progress – but as a step that was almost complete. I had managed to connect the major dots of the storyline, and it was actually starting to make sense and be engaging.
And that was weird.
To be “almost done” meant that I had to be confident I had taken my draft in the right direction. Confident that it was good and that I didn’t want to delete it all and start over (the thought might have possibly crossed my mind once or twice in the past few months). I had to believe that my story was right.
I did believe that. I do believe that. The months and months of just trying to get the ideas out of my head and onto paper fast enough are suddenly coming together in one complete story. I’m going to be really proud to have a finished novel that I wrote start to finish.
But it’s still a strange phenomenon to be almost done. It’s kind of weird to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel (very cliché, I know, but we’re going with it).
Does almost finishing a draft or story ever give you mixed emotions? Let me know in the comments!