I have finished a second draft of my novel. Yes. I am bragging. But there it is.

It still needs work, of course. But I like it. I just finished reading through it all this morning. I didn’t let myself make any marks or notes in the margins; I simply read it through from beginning to end. Here’s the thing: it still needs a lot of work. But I liked it! There is something there. What I mean is that there is a flicker of life in those printed pages, some trace of the pulsing energy I sought to capture when I first set out to write a novel. I caught glimpses of it in certain paragraphs or phrases: a couple of sentences gave me goose bumps!

In my most hopeful moments, I believe that there is some spark somewhere among those pages. I SO hope that I am not wrong. Not everyone will like my book. I know that. But someone will like it. Someone will recognize the glow within my words, and help to fan it into flame. That is my wish, my hope, my anchoring ambition.

So with that, goodnight. Boy, is that stack of printed pages a sight for sore eyes.

* Yes, that was another pun.