Writing the last line of my second novel felt decidedly different than finishing my first.
My first book was one I had to write (and finish) to prove something to myself. I started it ten years earlier and there were times I felt ‘stuck’ writing a plot I didn’t really connect with anymore and characters I had outgrown.
That said, staying committed to it and finishing it proved (to myself at least) that I really was a writer. More than that, it showed I could fit writing into my life. I could prioritize my own creative needs and my kids would still feel loved. I could find a balance.
I fell in love with my characters. I let the plot take me where it needed to go. I was excited to get the first draft done and really start editing and revising because I knew this book had something.
Seven months after writing the last line, I am deep in the query trenches and find myself longing for the days when I just got to write.
Querying is hard. Rejection is hard. But with the bad comes good. Good in the form of five requests from agents including two for my full manuscript.
So I move forward with high hopes for book number two as I start work on book number three.