I’m almost done the first draft of as-yet-unnamed changeling novel. And I’m reluctant to get to the end. Not sure why. Maybe because once I do I’ll have to acknowledge the messiness and incompleteness of what I’ve made. That while I may have arrived at the story’s end, I’m far from finished.
I’ve used a few disruptions to my routine as excuses to put off the work. It’s been almost a week since I’ve written a word. As a result, I am grumpy. Because the only thing worse than slogging through the last ten thousand words is not doing so and missing my deadline. I hate letting myself down.
So. Enough grumbling. Back to work.