My story is finished, well the first draft at any rate. 21 pages (with formatting and pictures) and a total of 8,313 words, it’s the longest project I’ve done besides journaling. It’s my second attempt at story writing and my first story conquered . . . that is, it has a beginning, middle and end. All the words are on the page.
Maybe it isn’t nearly done; it’s been suggested I use this as the breath of a much larger story. I could write many more chapters and jump from this narrative voice, dive into the story and then come back up for air with the narration again. I’m a little scared to try though, I don’t want to drown.
Before I wrote “Nearing Home” I was very unsettled about the story, there were so many loose ends and I had no idea where I wanted to take the story and tie them up. I thought about it for two days and deeply considered quitting but I didn’t want to abandon my readers (yes, I do appreciate you!).
I finally sat down at my computer with the story open on the screen late Sunday night, after the long weekend of it hanging over me. I sat there and just forced myself to write. It turned out being much easier than expected. I smiled with the last sentence. I felt comfortable with it again. I’d never felt quite like that before, to be satisfied with a story—not any story but one of my own. I like that feeling and I want to feel it again, again, and again.