There is an amazing feeling; one that perhaps only those of us who write get to feel in the unique way we do. It’s the feeling of ‘finishing’.
Believe me, it’s not as banal as it sounds.
For the last few days I’ve worrying away at a story. You will know this if you’ve read some of my other ‘Houston’ posts. This morning – again writing a few hundred words between breakfast and work – I reached ‘a point’. Just under four-thousand-three-hundred words in, there was a sentence, a full stop, and the sudden sense of “that’s a chapter”. It was a profound feeling, totally unquestionable. And just brilliant.
The feeling of finishing.
In this case, a chapter. Only a chapter. But even in that conclusion so much is implied. For example, that there is another chapter to be written. Other finishing posts to look forward to…
It’s far too early to know if the story – whatever it is – has the potential, legs, stamina, quality etc. etc. to make it all the way, but for a tired Brit about to embark on another working day five-thousand miles away from home, it’s something to hang on to.