Facing Down Death

The End.

I am afraid of the end. The true end. Where you got it "right" (finally) and you've done all you can to shoot yourself in the foot sell it.
The end is where you know you can't go back anymore.
Where the people you've created on your keyboard are alive, breathing, and people in their own right.
And now you must kill them.
By typing The End.

And you mourn the loss. You imagine writing a trilogy (because isn't that what everyone is doing these days?). You try and figure out how you can re-write the entire thing again.

But it's truly the end.

It's time to move onto the life and deaths of other people.

So you cry to your friends who will understand crying over an imaginary world, full of imaginary people. And said friends will remind you about your other projects.
You'll sniff and feel like it's okay. You'll remember how much you like these new people you're writing about. And how terribly messy their story is.

And it will ease the sting while you type it.

The End.

A Novel Album

Because an obscure, un-published writer's blog with one reader (Hi!!) is the only place to share ridiculous art projects done during "final read/edit for *if* anyone with a partial wants a full"

Re-visiting an old friend.

Source: travelthisworld.tumblr.com via Anastasia on Pinterest

Lily, the main character of the young adult novel I'm querying, has been with me since I was fifteen.
She started as an awkward, tough dirtbike rider with a crush on her best friend, and an annoying and creepy jerk admirer.
She evolved through a coming of age drama with a makeover that my fifteen-year-old self desperately wanted (because it's every girls dreams to put on the right shirt and suddenly be SMOKIN') and that annoyed me (because if the guy shows interest in you because you suddenly put on a nice shirt, he might secretly like boys...)
Then, sitting in the gas station in Edgewater, MD on my fourth wedding anniversary, she turned into a wakeboarder.
And the annoying, creepy, jerk admirer became the boy she was meant to be with. Funny how life changes your perspective between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five.
She grew beyond wish-fulfilment, into her own person. From Lauren (her original name) to Lily.

I got to write about a place I love and give a nod (or two) to my husband's teenage years. Lily made it easy to keep trying-- to keep writing-- and to stay humble and learn. I wanted to tell her story. I didn't know the story when I started writing, but after ten years, I figured it out.

I'm winding down the queries. Only a few people left who either have her or will get a query...
I hope she sells. I hope the sun doesn't set on her little corner of the Chesapeake. But if it does, at least her story's been told.

Multiple times. *rolls eyes*