I’m nearing the end of my novel, and it feels amazing.

I have less than a chapter to go before I write my final scene. It’s hard to write an ending, but not as hard as writing a beginning. The past six or more months of work is finally paying off. I feel good about what I’ve created – the world, the characters, the story. And it makes me strangely happy to know that, hopefully soon, I will be able to read my book in a format other than a Microsoft Word page–and so will other people!

It’s been a long journey. Some days have been great, and I’ve been able to pump out pages of quality, imaginative work. Other days–like the three-week-long period when I was moving into a new house–have been not so productive. I had down days when I felt like it wasn’t worth it to continue because I would never, ever finish. Thankfully, I also had a fair share of times when I felt inspired, optimistic, and motivated. Those days kept me going, along with the encouragement of my friends and family, and now I’m nearly done. I have dreamed about finishing a novel since I was ten years old. That the time is almost finally here is overwhelming–in a good way.