And So I Face the Final Curtain

The end of the book (new rehased revised version) is in sight. I feel like I should stretch a length of ribbon across my doorway and jog through it in slow motion as someone plays ‘Chariots of Fire’, lifting my arms above my head with a victorious fist punch to seal the occasion. Of course it will be subject to rounds of editing and more rewrites but I’m not afraid to tell you that when I was able to write the words ‘The End’ I did shed a little tear. I still have the middle to finish off and when that is done I’m not afraid to say I’ll probably break down like a baby and sob with all my might.

It might seem like a massive overreaction but as someone who has started and never finished a lot of things in her life, this is a big deal for me. If you’d told me a year and a half ago when I first received the email from Lucy-Anne Holmes that said ‘now then you write brilliantly, have you thought about writing a book?’ that I would actually see it through and have an almost completed full first draft on my computer I’d have fallen over from laughing so hard. Friends will testify to the fact that I change my mind about things like someone else changes socks so having the tangible results of a project that I have solely been responsible for producing is a bloody great feeling. I’m also excited by the thought of people I know reading it, it blows my mind a bit too much to think of people I don’t know picking it off the shelf. I’m nervous about the fact that Marmaloid doesn’t want to read it until it’s published. Marms trusts me, she has no reason not to, but she also features heavily in a fictionalised way and sometimes it makes my butt clench in fear that she’ll hate it (she won’t).

I’m having great fun reminiscing about the best holiday I’ve ever been on as I fictionalise bits of my life for the book. I wish I could bottle the feelings I had inside me when I got back from a magical two weeks in Cuba and take the stopper out now and then when I need a boost. Marmaloid said to me at the time that I had come back a different woman and it’s only now I’m realising that she was right and that I need to recapture that ‘I can do anything’ spirit. Me who hadn’t been submerged in water since primary school was in the swimming pool and the sea every day, went snorkelling and managed not to drown, jumped into the pool fully clothed, jumped into the pool in my skimpies and had genuine carefree fun for the first time I can remember. I didn’t give a fat rat’s arse about what people thought about me and yet here I am a year and a half later back to being paranoid, scared to push my boundaries and definitely remaining in my comfort zone. Ack. I’m not suggesting that I’m about to mince round in my skimpies or dive into the university pond fully clothed but it would be nice to be a little bit more carefree about getting stuck in and trying new things.

Writing the book has been brilliantly cathartic and now the end is in sight, I’ve started thinking about book two…

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