It felt right. I
began my journey three years ago in November and this November I finished. As I typed the final words to my second
novel, joyful adrenalin coursed through my fingers and a very satisfying peace
encompassed me. Even knowing that months
of editing face my future, I feel the novel is complete.So why did this feeling elude me when I finished my first novel? No joy, no satisfaction, no completion came from the final words. Perhaps the answer is entwined with my emotions. My first story is my life’s work. Like a journey, when I finished the plot, I realized that I’d evolved into a better writer and because of my transformation the beginning of the story no longer fit the middle and the ending. Since then, I’ve worked diligently trying to edit the manuscript into the masterpiece I desire but each time I fall short. I feel that my journey has not yet giving me all the skills I need to complete my first novel.
In the spirit of persistence, I began my second novel. Unlike my first love, my second novel is a
quick read, filled with interesting characters whose strong personalities
possessed me and drew me seamlessly through the plot. It’s a fun story which can be read at face value,
although I layered it with axioms and prose for those who enjoy more depth. And even though I enjoyed reading and writing
my second novel, I am not as emotionally attached to it as my first.
As I journey forwards, towards publication, I hope that my
lack of emotional connection will prove to be a strength; allowing me to
critically assess and edit the novel.
