I’ve been writing in some form or another since I was fourteen. I’d written before that, but it was around that time, when I was first living in San Francisco, that I realised exactly how much I enjoyed it. I started by writing fan fiction within the Harry Potter universe, some of which I am rather proud of, some I can’t read without groaning. I had original bits and pieces as well, but I spent a lot of time in the Harry Potter fandom.
So, after 13 years of writing, a three year degree in Creative Writing, multiple short stories and even more abandoned projects, today I finally finished my first complete, in depth round of edits on a completed novel.
As such, as I am sure you can imagine, I am now celebrating with a cider. Yes, I know, crazy.
After fleshing out some of the chapters, splitting a couple of chapters into two when I realised that there was too much going on for it to be one, I have ended up with a 32 chapter novel standing at just over 80,000 words.
It still needs some work, I know that, but I feel this overwhelming satisfaction at it right now. I finished a novel. After 13 years, I have finished it and not immediately gone ‘oh my god, let me move on.’ Editing this was a joy. I enjoyed reading it over and tweaking sentences. I adored rewriting entire paragraphs because I didn’t like them the way they were.
It is pride. I am proud of what I have achieved, and I am practically chomping at the bit to keep going. A friend asked me if it would be straight on to the next round of edits and I said that yes, I would be doing another round, but first I wanted to get a couple of people to read it and tell me what they think. I also want to start writing the sequel because all throughout editing, I’ve been having ideas of how I want to progress, scenes that unfold while I’m on the tube going to work, songs that inspire me about certain characters and their feelings about the events in the first book that will continue on into the second.
I am 80,000 pieces of pride lighter, and I can’t wait to make 80,000 more.