So, I've just finished my book. No more edits, no more scenes to write. And if I calculated things right, my manuscript is 321 pages long. I thought this was kind of awesome, since I use the "3-2-1" countdown quite a bit in my novel.
Also, those words are still strange to type.
I'd try to describe how I feel right now, but I think I've used up all of my words. So I'll just throw some random ones out there.
Excited. Giddy. Freaked out. Amazed. Proud. Happy. Shocked.
But, most of all, this whole thing just feels like one big dream. I'm really very terrified that I'll wake up tomorrow and realize my life was just made up by some kid looking into a snow globe.
So, I apologize to the people that will undoubtedly be creeped out when I ask them to pinch me tomorrow.
Sorry about maybe violating your personal space. I just need a reminder that I'm not living in the matrix.
To quote one of my Youtube favorites - "Is this real life?!?"
And, to quote one of my best friends - "I just wrote a novel. No big deal."
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