This is it, I promise.
My novel, DIESEL2051, finished(?) out at 51299 words and 176 pages.
Am I proud? hell, yeah.
Is it any good? um, don’t know. Miss Carol’s starting to read it tonight. She’s my biggest cheerleader and hopefully my biggest critic.
Am I relieved it’s over? Ya know, it’s funny, but I was. For about an minute. Then I started missing it the way you miss someone you love sitting on your lap when they get up.
Would I do it again? Oh, hell yeah. I’ve dicked around writing shit for years and telling myself I’d finish it tomorrow. It took the self-imposed deadline of an imaginary contest like NaNoWriMo to get me to do it. It really is like running a marathon alone and in the dark and finishing.
So NaNoMo? If you’ve ever wanted to write anything longer than a blog or a tweet (not that those are bad things) do yourself a favor and enter the NaNoWriMo next year. Even if you don’t finish your Great American Novel, you’ll be amazed and exhilarated by what it opens up in you.