The other day when I was driving home, I saw the end scene of my novel. Today, I sat down and wrote the last 40 pages.

 

Many, many Fridays.

There are still a few scenes that I really want to include for which I haven't found a place yet. And the sentences -- oy, they're not good yet. And also? I think a bunch of the details don't yet agree. I haven't read the first few chapters in months. I can't remember some of the middle. So I'm nowhere near ready to let anyone but Beloved read it yet.

However, the rough draft is done.

 

I wish I had more to say, but I seem to be all out of words.

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