After months of writing, it is time for the last chapter. For me, this time is always a mixed bag of emotions. I have been working at a frenzied pace for a month, writing seven days a week. I’ve stared at the computer screen until I’ve seen double, but couldn’t let go of the plot’s building crescendo.
The last chapter is like a descent from a mountain. One should do it slowly—adjust to the feeling of breathing 100 % oxygen again. I can never do this successfully. I race to the end, take a quick breath, and then leap into revisions. This is mostly due to the deadline hanging over my head, but one day I’d like to savor the moment of the last sentence.
The last chapter also means that the book is about to leave the author’s hands. It will be read by a team of people who then share their thoughts and opinions on everything from the title to the plot to the setting. And the author isn’t present.
From there, the editors get to work. They question line after line of writing and as the author answers the questions and makes changes, the book begins to change. Sometimes radically! Usually these changes are for the better, but it’s like sending your Kindergartener on the bus in the morning only to have him return from school that afternoon as a 4th grader. It can be startling.
So this is the week of the last chapter. This week, the book truly belongs to me. I’ve given it the best of me for the last six months. I’ve shaped it and agonized over it and cursed it and laughed at it. These 85,000 words, these characters I love, this product that has filled my days and my thoughts is mine.
At least until Friday at five o’clock.
Have you ever had trouble letting go of something you made?