“I finished my novel,” I announced with excitement.
My family sat around the dinner table staring at me, silent.
“Aren’t you happy for me?”
More silence. My husband looked at me sheepishly, trying to find words. “It’s just that we’ve heard this before.”
And he has. Several times. To be fair, this novel has been a twenty year project in the making. (I can hear the groans in the background.) If you’re just starting out, don’t worry, that doesn’t have to be you. And I hope it’s never me again. But often it depends on how much else you have going on in your life, how much time you can dedicate to writing. Slow and steady doesn’t always win the race, but often gets you to the finish line, at least. And for me, several times.
So how many times have I finished this novel?
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