The Catch

It’s finished.

Done.

The End.

Let the Hallelujah Chorus resound.

After months of thinking, typing, dreaming, typing, eating, typing, revising, typing, and revising some more, my novel, The Catch, is complete. Aside from a little polish here and there, it’s ready for submission to the powers that be.

What happens when a frustrated writer is visited by the main characters of her work in progress, asking her to help them find their happy ending? Well, a whole lot of interesting twists and turns, that’s what. More about that in a later post.

For now, I am basking in the euphoria of having finished this 65,000 word story by the deadline I’d set for myself. And considering this was not a piece of work that I’d done any amount of prior writing on, it is nothing short of a miracle that it is finished. Seriously.

The point of this post is the catch. (Not The Catch.)

The catch to doing something like this is actually doing something like this.

You can cry and lament and whine all you want about how hard it is to write and finish a book. But until you sit down, with your rear in the chair and your fingers on the keyboard, I’ve got no sympathy. Because it ain’t gonna happen any other way.

I know this.

Because I was the one doing that crying and lamenting and whining for way too many years.

There is no doubt about it; writing is work. It’s hard. It’s not even that much fun sometimes. But you have to stick with it.

Every.

Single.

Day.

And now, less than 24 hours since my last revisions were completed, I am outlining my next novel.

And it’s going to be a doozy!