1 Year, 243 Days of Writing a Novel
Almost finished with the novel. I think it should be done this month, actually. I know the ending. Even the unexpected pieces. The final bits and moments have all arrived in this very last month of writing. Like animals to an ark. To watch it unfold in my mind, like a special play, only for me…is pure fucking magic.
Every new thing I see comes with a strange twinge of nostalgia. Nostalgia for the story I’ve been telling.
And that’s just what a good ending should do. The next time I write you, it will be to tell all three of you I am done. I will peel off my armor. And let the helmet crack on the ground. My hair will be matted. And my face will have the stains of dragon blood. But his tail will be in my hand. And I will smile.
Because tonight, Darling, you’ll be wearing dragonhide.