Too many times I thought I was almost finished with the third draft of my book when "something would happen" of such magnitude and relevance to my tale that another chapter needed to be added. Each time I would say, "That's why I haven't finished yet...I needed this to happen." Thanks to the latest "happening" I couldn't make up a better ending if I had to, and I really had to.
It's all come full circle, and the circle can close. I don't need another chapter. So life, save it for the next book, please.
I now stand at 101,234 words before the final chapter is written. Will it be written today, tomorrow, this week, next week? I've got a full plate today which may turn into a full plate all week which may spill into next week so who the hell knows...but the final chapter will be written.
I sometimes wonder if writing my book would have been "easier" had I started when I was younger and/or had a different life...with no children, no business, no husband, no health issues, less worries and fewer problems. Maybe, but those "problems" make me who I am, and the story, what it is.
I knew writing a memoir, I mean novel, would be difficult, but never imagined it would be this draining. And here's a cliche I won't be putting in my book...whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. And by the way, cliches only suck if they aren't true. That last one is true...
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