Ever since I was 12 years old, hunching over a laptop at 2 AM on some forgotten anime roleplay forum, I always dreamed of writing a novel. But for the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever have the motivation–not only that, but my thoughts were disjointed at best. I had the same rough character outlines that haunted me since childhood, but other than that, a sewer rat had a better chance of writing the inaugural address than I did of writing a coherent novel.
But then, suddenly, like a worm evolving into a dragon, I finally had the conviction to follow my dreams. And in just a year and a half, I wrote over 220k words that are destined to become Book One in the series I’ve envisioned since I was a kid. It was as if all that procrastination, all that spinelessness, all that lack of confidence that plagued me for so long was finally twisted into pure creative energy–and it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.
It’s midnight on April 5th, 2019, and I’m 700 words into the final chapter of my first novel. In my childhood dreams, I always envisioned being at this point when I was 40 instead of 27, but I’m definitely not complaining.
Now, you may think that I’m standing in the threshold of sublime victory. It may seem like I’ve reached my ultimate goal–but I still have a lot of editing ahead of me before my work is done. I ended up deciding to cut around 70k words from the beginning of the book, because I realized my story made much more sense when it started 1/3 of the way through. And I’m sure that I’ll decide to cut some random scenes here and there as well. So I’m not at the finish line yet, but I’m closer than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
I hope to have my book truly, completely finished sometime this summer. At this point in time, June seems reasonable, but that depends entirely on how exhausting the editing process turns out to be. I’m not looking forward to the process of finding an agent, once all the editing is finally done. But I know my future agent is out there somewhere, maybe even reading this post. Wouldn’t that be an act of fate fit for the ages?
Sending my story out to be dissected by the masses will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, second only to writing it . . . But still, I’m looking forward to it more than I’ve looked forward to anything else.