After a long period of writing, writing, writing until I feel my hand begin to shake and can track my progress with the ink marks that smudge the side of my hand…I put the pen down. I stare at the sheet of paper, which is marked, crossed out, marked again. I stare at the last word – and I know it’s completed.
It’s finished! And while I have miles to go before I can submit it to an agent, the hardest part is done. The story is told. Now I type, reformat, memorize the thesaurus, and elaborate. I caught myself today doing just that and wanting to slow down, if only slightly. What happens when this is over? Or will it ever be over? Will I ever reach the point in editing when I think it’s as good as it can get? Of course, I may think so, but will an agent or editor think it has any redeeming qualities? I can only move forward and hope that this past year has all been worth it.
So now I sit and ponder things to come – the beginning of a school term, the smell of fall in the hot air outside, another year spent with my husband and the new chapters yet to come in our life. I think of the possibility of so many things, but I can only work on the subject at hand and recall the ink stains on my palm that marks the progress I’ve made and a job accomplished.