In Which Half a Book is Written

You read right. I finished the first half of my novel – 47000 words. Breathe in, breathe out – it’s all right, I keep telling  myself. I put so much of myself into this story, it feels like pieces are missing. I feel almost empty, drained – drained of words. Maybe it feels good? Feels right. Breathe in, breathe out.

Now to begin the second half. The second part of a story I’ve spent half my life writing, rewriting. Loving. Hating. Now to pour the rest of me into this story until all I am is skin and muscle. Breathe in, breathe out.

A side note: a fellow blogger deleted her site today. I don’t know what happened, but her last post made me sad. She was wonderful – I looked forward to her writing every day I signed in. I’ll miss you, Unabridged Girl.

Now time to write. Time to bleed. Breathe in, breathe out.

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Comments
One Response to “In Which Half a Book is Written”
  1. jenniesisler says:

    I think this perfectly captures the whole concept that writing is like giving birth. And regarding your side note, when wonderful characters disappear, it is like a death of sorts. I can understand your sadness.

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