One small step for man, one giant first draft for me.

The house gets pretty quiet at 3 am. Most people are fast asleep, so they can awaken, well-rested, early in the morning, ready to take on the day. I, on the other hand, was sitting (or more accurately, crouching like a goblin) in front of the computer screen, typing away the last few chapters. 


I finally got to the last sentence, and then the last word. And there I was. Done with my first draft. 


In the movies, there is a strange sense of finality at this point. The actor marvels at her work, a smile of contentment on her face. And the next moment, she holds a printed book, the result of a montage of blood, sweat, and tears. Everything comes together with a neat little bow. 


It seems unfair that real life is nothing like the movies. 


Now, that I had a first draft, I had an even longer list of things to do next, starting with actually editing this parvum opus. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, but you can't walk into a house if you don't build the door. 


If only there was a window I could pry open. 


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