Did you see what I did there?
You see, when you're writing your first novel, everything seems to go out the window. Especially if you've had the year I've had. I was supposed to finish in February at the latest. First draft - words flung at paper. And here I am. July.
It is still July isn't it?
Anyway, much as I tend to, I've digressed.
I've finished. (Yeah I know that by finished I mean I've done the first draft. Tears were shed. Lamp loved. A meager battle in the war, victorious.)
You see, I didn't give up. I read so oft that this writer and that writer have the great novel in progress. Have they given up? Is it War and Peace? Who cares? I could have given up. No one would have blamed me. Let me clarify. I had a voluputous change in my circumstances at the beginning of the year. (you know, shattering) and I had written (almost to the word) half a novel at the time of said happening. Compounding this, it was my first time. My cherry novel.
It would have been easy to burn the book (see, I even got in a nazi reference) much like a lot of other things, but I didn't. It took me months to get it (and me) back on track.
There is a moral to this, and it is simple.
Don't give up. Finish what you started. If you want to write a novel, write a goddamned novel. Take your time - the time you need. But whatever happens. And for the first time in the history of filingwords, I'm going to splurge profanity:
If you want to write the novel. Write the fucking novel.
That is all.
'Til next time (and hopefully profane free)...