As I am writing this, I am getting very close to finishing the first draft of a novel.
I am not excited about this. In fact, I am terrified.
This is not the fear that settles in when you realize you’re about to finish something that may never expand beyond the state it is in now. And it isn’t the dark realization that you are going to have to go back to the beginning at some point and (GASP) rewrite a bunch of it, and edit it, and probably do it over again after that.
No. This is the fear of something else. Something worse. It has happened to me before, and I really don’t want it to happen again.
I have been working on this book for what feels like a very long time, in the grand scheme of writing projects. It has consumed so much of my life…
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