I Just Finished Writing My First Book

How does it feel writing that very last word?

Free image, courtesy of pixabay.com

The time is 10:19 PM at night, May 5th, 2017. Over the past three days and nights, the only time I wasn’t writing was when I stopped to brush my teeth, grab some quick bites to eat or for naps, which have lasted no longer than two hours each, and summed about 9, maybe 10 hours of total sleep.

That’s 10 hours of sleep in 72 hours of living.

Food? I snacked on almonds, 3 coconut bars that I grabbed at a store somewhere in the country side, raw spinach leaves from my garden, unwashed (I literally went out and had some, they’re delicious and healthy, and I’m not crazy, I guess) apples, Oreo cookies and some spaghetti that my mom left on the kitchen counter for me.

I can’t even remember how real food tastes like. I was so caught up in writing, everything else just faded away. Nothing else matters when you get serious about writing, at least in my case. I asked my whole family to just stop coming into my writing room, unless it was a life threatening situation for me, or for one of them.

Facebook? What is Facebook? But seriously, if you give up on Facebook, you can do anything. Seriously, ANYTHING!

It all started two years ago

I started working on this novel about two years ago, pausing for months on end and almost losing half the manuscript. Long story short, I started writing and successfully finished half of it at that time, in about 6 months or so, but then, disaster struck.

My old laptop, an ancient ASUS, which was about 6 years old at the time, crashed for good one day. I went to the tech guys in town, but they were unable to reboot it. Then I went to my uncle, which even has a degree in computer hardware, yet he was unable to repair it. It was just gone, and my book was stuck inside the dead, never-to-return-back-to-life machine. I did eventually succeeded in saving the data on the hard drive, and I was lucky to get my manuscript back on my new laptop.

And then, I forgot about it.

Three months ago, after some seriously crappy days, I stumbled upon the document, just sitting in an “Old Laptop” folder on my “D” partition. I opened it, trying to get my mind off of the fact that I was having a bad headache, and then just started reading.

The truth is, I just loved what I was reading, and I couldn’t believe that it was me who wrote that stuff. I wrote that stuff, and it was… more than readable?! It was enjoyable! What the actual heck, right?

I kept reading and reading, reaching the end of it and just begging to find out more about the whole story. Is that guy dead, or just badly injured? Is the main character going to make it? Is that the killer, or the other dude, the one in the police car?

The final word

And then I realised, I was the one who was going to decide all that. In that world that I created, I was the “one true God”, and I was ready to rule my imaginary creations once more. That’s when I started writing the other half of the book, driven by the need for something new, fresh, something mindful. The action packed chapters. The twists and turns. The deaths. The miraculous escapes. The drama. The happiness.

And surely, three months later, the last word.

How does it feel to be writing that very last word of your first novel? I guess it’s just a little surreal, mixed with a sense of regret, happiness, remorse, fear, uncertainty, and a lot of restlessness. But I guess it’s all normal.

I just finished writing a freaking book!

I’m off to sleep now. For those of you who want to find out more about the release date and other details, I’ll see you back here in a couple of days. I’m dead serious, I think I’ll literally spend the next 48 hours sleeping.

Thank God it’s all over.

Good night.

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