I did it. I wrote a novel.
It’s a sloppy first draft that needs a lot of revision. There are sections that need to be totally rewritten. It’s not ready to submit for publication yet. It needs a lot of love. But… I wrote it.
Right now, it’s just shy of 54,000 words.
100 single spaced typed pages.
There are developed characters. There is a consistent storyline. It feels amazing, honestly. I’m quite proud of myself today.
It’s a dream of mine that I’ve had for a long time and I really FEEL like I’ve accomplished something. Even though this is only Phase One on the long path to publication, I believe this is the hardest part: writing the first draft.
When I force myself to write a lot, I get a lot of text on the page but it’s not necessarily coherent or fluid. But this is… enough. It’s enough. And now I enter my favorite phase: revision.
I’m going to spend the next couple of months reading, reading, and re-reading what I’ve started here, and writing, writing, and re-writing.
And then, when it’s ready, I’m going to submit it for publication. If I never get published, I’m still going to be so proud that I WROTE something. And I can try again. Or write a new novel and try to publish that one. The way I see it, it’s okay to fail, but you have to try.
It’s currently saved in three places because I don’t even want to imagine what I would feel if I lost it.