I need to throw a small party for the boy tonight: he completed his first novel! I couldn't be more happy for him, and he is happy to have it out of his head on paper now.
It was great. I came home last night from knitting, and he was all glowing with the excitement of it all. It made me reflect on when I finished Continuum. I don't know if I remember much besides writing "The End" and wanting to cry. I was so excited to have done it, to have actually completed a book. At the time, I knew a number of people who set out to write books, but they'd all gotten about 40-100 pages in and quit. I would worry late at night that that would be my fate, but alas it wasn't. And now, it's not the boy's fate either. Hooray for finishing what you started!
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