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On completing the first draft of my novel


It’s weird. I expected to feel elated at this stage. After a year of solid work (and 3 years of twists and turns) I’ve finished the first draft of my novel.

Great, right?

Well, yeah, except I feel like I’ve written a pile of shit.

99,000 words worth of shit, to be precise.

Instead of feeling excited about this achievement, I feel tortured by self doubt. Now that I’ve finished something I can see exactly what I have. There’s no hiding from it.

Of course, this is just a first draft. It will get better.

But I think it’s interesting how negative I’ve been feeling since finishing the first draft. I should be happy for fuck’s sake!

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