I mean, there is a finished draft of my book. It was good enough to earn a passing grade for my MFA. But I need to really finish my book.
I keep staring at the blinking cursor, like I'm the movie-version of a writer with writer's block. Now that I have a completed draft, that isn't it too bad of shape, the task of fully editing, doing rewrites, and nailing down that second half so it's as good as the first half, is all that much more daunting.
I crave for the beginning of projects. My mind starts buzzing, and all I can think about is digging my heels in and getting started. In the beginning, everything is fresh, and new, and exciting. Now, I'm tired. I'm weary. I'm ready to finish this damn thing.
I'm setting myself a deadline. August 1st, I'll have the next completed draft of this thing ready for beta readers. After that, another draft, another round of readers. January 1st, I'll be querying agents with a completed manuscript.
In the immortal words of a friend and fellow writer, I've got this.
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