I started the last chapter of book three last night.  That’s staggering to me.  I’ve finished three other manuscripts, and each one is a unique experience.  When the last line is written, there’s a moment of disbelief quickly followed by a rush of euphoria.  Weeks, months, and in this case years of hard work are finished, and even though there will still be editing and polishing, the framework of the story is complete.  It’s a feeling that I can only compare to the birth of  my children.  Obviously, their births are more profound, but the feeling is similar.

So sometime either this week or after I take the kids back to Jacksonville, I will complete this book, and I will get to experience for the fourth time in my life that sensation of accomplishment.  I have a suspicion that this one will be more special than the others.  I don’t know what the emotions will be specifically, but I’m certain they will be intense and overwhelming.

My hope is that this book is better than the first two.  The overall story has reached its zenith, and I do feel more mature as a writer.  Hopefully, the book is as compelling to my readers as it seems to me, but you can never tell.  Often, when a writer feels really good about a piece, readers don’t have the same connection to it.  That’s why I’m a little leery.  I feel like it’s a strong manuscript, but I’m worried how others will take it.

Stay tuned…

I’m almost finished with chapter 13 of book three, which means only one more to go.  Once I’m through with 13, the final one will be much easier to write because it’s not so intense.  Last night, the enormity of finally finishing this book hit me and nearly overwhelmed me.  I was truly a different person when I began writing the first chapter.  My life revolved around being a father and provider.  Today, while being a father is still my focal point, the reality is that I live alone, and the intense roller-coaster ride of these last three years has forever changed the person I am.

In some ways, those changes are for the better.  I now see that a person cannot change no matter how much they hope for it; some wounds are too deep to heal.  I also understand more clearly that love and compatibility are too different things, and love alone is not enough to sustain a relationship.  From the separation from my kids, I have learned just how much inner strength I have.  Unless you have endured that pain, you cannot understand it, and while there have been times that I’ve wanted to lay down and quit, my inner resolve has not allowed me to.  That’s good to know about myself.

Not all of the changes are for the better.  I am a somewhat colder person than before.  My trust is damaged.  I have less patience for people’s bullshit.  I am much more angry and bitter.

When I look back at who I was 32 months ago when I started this book, the distance feels enormous, but here I am writing the climactic scene exactly as I envisioned it.  I can’t believe the fruit didn’t rot on the vine.  When I do finally finish the rough draft of this manuscript, I will celebrate, and then I will go get my kids and play with them for a couple of weeks.  No matter what else, I am a blessed man.