The End !!!

 

Three months, three weeks, two days and fourteen hours. 169,836 words, 530 pages.  

Oh.My.God.

I did it.

I wanted to finish by last Sunday, but just couldn't manage it. I had so many things to tie up, then I had to set the stage for the next book in the series, which was WAY more difficult than expected. I wanted to have a good ending to this book, but needed to leave certain things dangling for the next one. Honestly, you'd think trying to write one book would be enough, but as usual with me, that would be too bloody easy.

Yesterday I was so close there was no way in hell I was going to stop, so I plowed on and finished last night at 10:00pm. It was an amazing feeling. I yelled and shouted, which freaked Ozzy out. He came charging into the room to rescue me from some dangerous villain and was very disappointed his services weren't required.

Anyway, the first draft is done. I'm going to take a short break then start the rewrites. I already know I'll be cutting/changing practically the whole first half which will drop the page numbers and word count drastically. I really like the story from mid-way to The End. Now I'll have to see if I can make the beginning as cohesive as the rest.

And, speaking of rest. I'm going to go read a book. Have some coffee. Wait till Noon when my BFF calls from Idaho and first thing out of her mouth will be: "Well?" I will scream with joy: "It's finished!!!!!!!!!!!"

Totally cool.

Comic Relief...

And, this is why...

...my book is the never-ending story.  I've changed bits in the excerpt posted yesterday FIVE times since I got up this morning.  Yes.  That's right.  Five times.  It was worth it, though.  It flows better, and is more succinct.  The worrying thing?  Five rewrites for an excerpt...how long for the whole flaming book??  I hope I live long enough to finish it.

A teaser...

I am soooo close to finishing this never-ending story. Though, unless I drive myself into the ground and stay up for the next three days and nights, typing non-stop, I will not finish by Valentine's Day. But you know what? I don't care. I will finish it within the next week or so, and that's good enough for me.

One thing I really hate, as a reader, is the big build-up of whatever needs resolution in the final chapter(s) of a book, and you turn the page...to find the story is over. Too fast. Too quick. I found myself the other day forcing myself to hurry. I was like the horse who sees the barn ahead and just wants that hay. I don't want a rushed, unsatisfactory ending. So, I will eat some grass along the way, ignore the barn and hold off charging for the hay until I'm ready.

Now, the teaser below will be basically meaningless since I'm the only one who knows what has gone before. Still. I thought I would share part of a chapter that is bringing me home, baby...the light at the end of the tunnel is almost blinding me. Also, what is below is not cast in stone. Tomorrow I might change it. Maybe. Truthfully, it's one of my favorite bits. I love how the long, lost brother shows up. And...sigh...he rides a Harley, too...but sshhh, nobody knows that yet.

    Alex knew he didn't have a hope of getting to Rowan in time. In a deep recess of his mind he was aware that Colin was watching his back, his gunfire giving him a chance, protecting him in his bid to do the impossible, but on every other level his mind was screaming in terror as he leaped forward.
    The spell was failing, the walls of snow slowly drifting apart to fill the avenue with thick, white flakes. Alex had only taken two frantic bounds when a gale of wind hit him in the back with a staggering force. He reeled, then crashed to the ground, sliding in the deep snow, an anguished howl ripping from his throat as he scrambled to his feet.
    His heart was pounding violently--he might die of the hammering pain before he died from losing Rowan. The snow was falling heavily, obscuring his vision, but still he ran, desperation clawing deep furrows through his gut.
    As he neared the shattered front doors, expecting to see Rowan crushed and broken on the stone steps, he slammed to a halt, though his momentum kept him skating forward over the icy ground. Off balance, he fell to his knees and stared in shocked disbelief.
    Rowan’s limp body floated in the air a foot off the ground, gently swaying in the wind that held her. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Only his lost brother, Brann, could have worked the wind--
   He slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Colin was also on the ground, but as Alex watched, he whirled fluidly to one knee, raised his weapon and aimed it with a steady hand back toward the opening in the demolished stone rampart. Both brothers gaped at the figure who came striding out of the swirling snow.
    His hair, raven-wing black, whipped in the wind that spun around his tall, muscular frame. Thick strands tangled and coiled across his chest and hard face, while others blew in long streamers over his shoulders. Sharp cheekbones left shadows over a clenched jaw, tight with hostility. His angry mouth made his full lips appear thin and mean. Silvery, gray eyes, outlined with an edge of darkness, flashed menace like a lightning storm. His black leather duster danced around his Faded Glory motorcycle boots until a gust of wind lifted the edge and snapped it back, the great flapping wing billowing behind him, exposing a black sweater molded to a powerful chest and long legs encased in equally black jeans. He wore fingerless, black leather gloves and a bad attitude.
    He looked like Death, coming for a handshake.
    Colin slowly rose to his feet, unable to believe what was stalking towards him. Then a wide, incredulous grin spread across his face and he laughed. “Oh man, if you weren’t my brother, I’d be scared shitless right about now.”
    A deep, rough voice growled, “Keep that option open.”

Buggers!! It's February...

I tried, I really did, but my goal of finishing the book by the end of January is a bust.  I had too much to do last week, what with shopping, baking cakes, fixing birthday dinners, and guzzling Prosecco--though that last part was just to keep the Birthday Boy from having to drink alone.  Really.  Okay, okay.  Not.

I lost three days of writing, some due to the above and some due to phone calls and dog walks and plot changes.  On Wednesdays, almost without fail, I talk to my BFF in Idaho, but last week I also talked to my sister, and I think I even got in a call to my mother.  In my family we can't just say hello...how are you...great...goodbye.  We don't even scratch the surface until at least an hour into the call.  This used to drive my Dad nuts.  "You can say everything you need to in five minutes!"  Poor man, he just didn't get it...

And, the bizarre way the plot changed really threw me.  I'm writing like mad on Saturday, when out of the blue, this one character tosses in a complete shocker that I totally didn't expect.  Seriously.  This bomb was not even in my head.  I'm typing away, and suddenly this guy says blah blah, and I'm staring at the words, going, "What?  You did...?  You couldn't have...?  What?"

Sometimes I think my fingers are just channeling these characters and I have absolutely nothing to do with what's happening in the story.  The bomb was great, hit the target dead on, and tied up a loose thread I didn't even see dangling.  And, as if that wasn't enough of a Twilight Zone moment, on Sunday a minor character shows up and lobs his own grenade.  Both plot changes are good, and add to the story, but it's sort of daunting when your fictional characters write better than you do. 

The changes also added another chapter I hadn't planned on, so is it any wonder this book will be longer than War & Peace??  Okay, not really.  Now that I'm approaching the finish line--and know how the book ends--I have to go back to the beginning and edit out copious amounts of crap.  I think I've said before that my opus will end up a short story by the time all is said and done.

So, my new goal is Valentine's Day, though I'm soooo hoping to be done before that.  I don't have too much more to write (famous last bloody words), and I'm down to the chaos and mayhem climax of the last few chapters.  With any luck, I will soon be celebrating the momentous occasion...assuming my interferring characters will stop shooting smart bombs at me.

Here's a cool photo of my writing space.  My view out the window (looking over the lid of my laptop) is green trees, hedge and sky.