100,000 words. I can’t believe that I’ve actually written that much. My first draft of my first hopefully-one-day-published book is nearly finished. I’ve made it to the end of the first tunnel and am barreling toward the second. I have spent so many nights unable to sleep because of the memories this experience brought up, not all of them pleasant. I’ve scribbled half-baked ideas on so many post-it notes, I’ve poured my heart out through my keyboard and, most of all, I’ve let my vulnerability take over the process.

The last few chapters are quite disjointed and full of incomplete thoughts. They look more like a group of crazy ramblings. So, I have quite a bit of cleaning up to do before I “officially” finish the first draft and I’m still struggling with deciding where on the timeline I need to end the book. I’m crossing my fingers it will just come to me during the “clean up”, but so far I’m pulling a big fat blank.

I have to admit, I’m a little proud of myself – a feeling which doesn’t happen very often for me. I know, I know. There are so many more steps ahead for this book. I’m probably still a good 3-4 drafts away from the finished product (not including the developmental and copyediting), and many decisions are yet to be made. However, my focus right now is to use this first goal as motivation to write the best book I can. The other stuff can work itself out later. Hopefully.

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