For the first year of my writing experiment, I tore through advice column after advice column, blog after blog, book after book about how to finish that pesky first draft of a novel. And guess what?

I did it!

So… what the hell do I do now?

I have a giant box full of notebooks. The seedlings of my first draft. My second draft. Thirteen drafts of that one dramatic scene. Ten drafts in that red notebook of the end. Two notebooks contain alternate endings to the same book. My computer has 10 typed drafts in it.


Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty proud of myself for even completing the damn thing, but completing it wasn’t the hardest part. This is. Right now. Figuring out what should stay and what should go. And I feel like I’ve been complaining about this for the entire second year of this writing bonanza (however, if you know me at all, the fact that I am even still WITH the same project into a second year is an accomplishment in and of itself). I’m going around and around in circles and yes, it’s dizzying. It’s also paralyzing. But, I guess I need to quit whining about it, and get back to work!


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