The Novel Isn’t Done Yet

Can’t talk, the first draft of the novel isn’t done yet. All I need is it written to the end so I can print it out and do surgery. I said it would be ready December 1; failed. I said it would be ready December 16; failed. I know it’s a holiday for some, but I’m sorry if I’m not festive, I’m not done yet.

My discovery of the letters I wrote to myself in the year 2000 is having great impact on me as I write the end of the novel. It’s like finding a time capsule—forgetting you buried it and then stumbling over it. My big plans for life are in there: some met, some dropped, some still to come.

Finishing the first draft of this novel before the end of the Aughts is all I ask.

Can’t explain why it feels so important, no time; the novel isn’t done yet.

Does anyone else have a MAJOR LIFE GOAL to achieve by this end of this decade?

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