Greetings, friends!
On Saturday, I wrote the final words of my novel. Or at least, of this draft of it. I started this project in 2016, and spent years attempting to write it, only to get about halfway through before encountering some kind of plot related issue that made me chuck it out and begin again. In August 2020, I made myself a promise: I would write all the way through to the end—even if it was bad, even if I didn’t like it anymore, even if the plot or characters changed beyond recognition. I made one more outline and started once more. I wrote in 2-3 hour chunks at Sit & Write, and for 2 weeks straight at VCCA. When I got home from the residency, I added 1, then 2 more weekly co-working sessions with friends to my rotation. Finally, almost 2.5 years later, I finished. I printed out the behemoth and placed the 2 inch tall stack of paper on my coffee table to admire. I waited to feel excited. I waited to feel good.
The next thing I did was pick up my copy of Matt Bell’s “Refuse …