At 12:28 am this morning, I finished a hard thing. Something, at times, I doubted would ever be completed.
I finished writing a book.
Since I've now published almost ten titles, I realize that may confuse you. But this particular manuscript has been, to date, the hardest thing I've ever written.
Mind you, I didn't say the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm a wife, a mother, and a human being--besides being a writer. And life has been hard.
But this book. Right now I lack the words to adequately express to you how much I worried, stressed, doubted, and wondered that I would ever finish it. I went through long stretches where the characters wouldn't speak to me at all, where I would sit with the document open and surf the Internet because the story just wouldn't come.
These last few days, in particular, have been amazing. As I wrote the story unfolded to me in ways I had never imagined. And while I'm fully aware that this draft isn't the end, I'm so glad that I'm on this side of it.
Do the hard things. They are the only things that make life worth living.
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