When the end is only the beginning

I did something this week that I’ve only dreamed of. I wrote “the end” on a story I’ve been crafting for years now.

The End fancy

I knew it was coming soon; I just wasn’t sure how soon. And I know that might sound weird but if I’ve learned anything from this process of writing a novel, it’s that it’s nothing like I expected. I can’t explain how it happens, that even though I’m the one writing the story, I still didn’t know when it would end.

What has surprised me most is the outpouring of support and enthusiasm I’ve received from family and friends and Facebook acquaintances. I have written a book that needs a lot of work and is far from finished and yet people tell me they can’t wait to read it.

That’s frightening. And humbling. And encouraging. But mostly frightening.

They are cheering me on and I’m not even sure the game has started. I still feel like a spectator sometimes, watching other people pursue their dreams, or if not a spectator then a benchwarmer. I’m observing, learning and waiting my turn.

So these people, the ones who encourage and cheer like I’m actually already in the game, they scare me with their unconditional belief in me. Or maybe they can see something I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it because then I might turn in my uniform altogether and try to forget I ever thought I could do this.

Because I don’t want to disappoint people. It’s okay if I disappoint myself. I’m used to that. But those cheerleaders? Bless them. I don’t want to let them down. And I’m afraid that I’ve written a big pile of stinky manure and the cheerleaders will hold their noses and turn away when they realize what it is.

Or that they’ll give up cheering because it might be a while before these words go public.

Writing is a marathon sport. Even if the novel was ready today, I couldn’t publish it tomorrow. Even if I had a contract from a publisher that I signed today, it might be a year or more before the book became something I could hold in my hands.

So, I’m afraid these dear people trust me too much and expect too much and will give up when the journey is long. I’m afraid of the same things for myself: that I put too much pressure on me, that I expect too much too soon, that I will give up when the waiting is long.

Please don’t stop encouraging me. Having written the two most important words of the novel–the end–is really just the beginning. A lot of hard work is behind me but a lot of hard work is yet to come.

I wish I could tell you that this book will be published and give you a date. I wish I could show it to you in all its edited, cleaned up glory. I wish writing “the end” meant it was truly over.

But it’s not.

So just hang on with me? Wherever this writing journey takes me, if you’re willing to stick it out and come along, I’m glad to have you. I can’t promise it’ll always be exciting. Some days it might be downright depressing. But it won’t be boring.

It means the world to me to have people in my corner. If that’s you, then thank you. I’ll keep you updated when I know what’s next. In the meantime, you can pray that I would see where God is leading and be faithful with the time and words He gives me to write.

Again, thank you. We’re in this together, and I couldn’t do it without you.

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5 thoughts on “When the end is only the beginning

  1. I have always enjoyed your writing. When you wrote for the Telegraph I was always excited to read what you wrote. I enjoy reading your blog and will wait in anticipation for your book however long that may take. You have a God given talent and an openness that is refreshing. Keep writing so we can keep reading!

  2. Pingback: A peek inside my head: The My Writing Process blog tour | Living Echoes

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