The Final 3

The Final Three. And probably the most painful.

I am down to the final three chapters of my manuscript. In some ways it’s hard to believe that I’m almost finished. In other ways, I’m dreading that last stretch to the finish line.

The thing that they never seem to tell you in writing class is how hard that final bit of writing is.

So why is it so hard?

1) Well, to begin with, I’m tired. Not quite burnt out, but definitely have that edge of being over it. It’s funny. I’m not over the story, which is a good thing since I still have 3 more books to write – and in fact, I’m really looking forward to developing the outline for Book 2 to see how Poesy and the others progress. But I can’t deny that I want to see this book finished and in the hands of an agent. I think I have so much aggro stored up for the agent search that I just want to get on with that next painful portion of the experience.

So being tired doesn’t help.

2) You have to tie up all the loose ends. Yep, the kicker. So if you played fast and loose with your writing up to this point and it took you 3 chapters to say something that you could’ve said in one earlier in the book, it didn’t matter as much. In the final part of the arc, you don’t have the luxury. Bringing home the punch line takes finesse and being the sort of person who takes her time getting to the point, it can be a daunting experience (ed. – it’s not how long it takes you to get there, it’s the experience along the way).

3) And finally, as cringe worthy as it sounds, the weather is changing. The cold, harsh, dark days of winter are the best atmosphere for getting my creative juices flowing. When it’s miserable outside, it’s easy to get lost in the world of your book. A comfy chair, laptop, blanket, and a cup of tea is the perfection mix for me to get down to some serious typing. The Spring not so much. Warm weather, sunny days, birds tweeting – it begs for you to go outside and frolic in the grass. And the temptation grows stronger every day as the sun stays overhead longer and the world erupts in a riotous concoction of color and smells.

You see? I can’t even write about it without going a little overboard.

But I’m almost there. Just a little bit more.