Sing that to the Les Miz music, I have been.
I have three more days to finish up Nita and get it electronically to NYC (good old Dropbox) so Jen can print it out and take it home with her and then write me next Monday and say, “What the hell were you thinking?” She’s usually great rolling with whatever I send her, but a dead hero might be the line she cannot cross with me.
I am now at the point where I’m skipping all over the place trying to layer in things and avoiding the last few scenes I haven’t tackled yet. Most of these, I realized, I hadn’t tackled because I knew they were going to be awful, so possibly it would be better to just get rid of them in a throwaway line and move on. I also need to go back through and add people and motifs I drop and pick up again. Still don’t know if the socks are necessary, but I think they are.
And some time tomorrow or Thursday, I’ll print the whole thing out and marvel, as I have done every damn time, that I wrote a book. A whole book. Me. Every time I can’t believe it. Every time, I think it’s a fluke. And a miracle. Me, I wrote a book. Unbelievable.
Happy 2019, everybody. I’m gonna finish a book this year.