It was December 22nd, and I’d been delaying and delaying writing the last chapter of my latest book. Difficult, it is, finishing a novel that you’ve been working on for months. Typing ‘The End’ is akin to reading the last page of the best story you’ve ever read.
Writing has been a lot different in the last two years for me. It used to be a full-time thing, but now I’ve had to come up with inventive ways to find time to write. Funnily enough, it isn’t difficult. Once I get to write, even ten minutes worth of stuff, I find it so rewarding that I can still do it, and I can do it just as well.
Every book still feels like a huge accomplishment. Every moment spent creating is still like a moment of blessing; a moment to myself, just for me. Especially with this book; the longest, deepest, most dramatic prose I’ve ever written.
After twenty two books, one might think that I’ve written everything I can think of. Not so. However, I will take a break from writing fiction with my next book. The next one will be of the self-help genre. So stay tuned.