The finish line

Well, I did it, and MAN am I exhausted. Now I understand those marathon runners, all sweaty and tired. Screaming with leg cramps. Barely making it over the finish line. Writhing around on the ground from dehydration. Shells of their former selves.

I am victorious! I can’t believe I posted thirty days straight! No stopping. No looking back. I don’t know if I’ll get a prize out of it, but I certainly have a sense of accomplishment. I also have a sense of dread. Dread because for thirty years, I kept telling myself I couldn’t accomplish my dream of writing a novel. There was always a reason – kids, work, no time, too sleepy. I have no idea what motivated me to do this. I read about it through someone else’s blog and thought “maybe…”. Before I knew it, I was writing this post. In thirty days I’ve undone every excuse I’ve ever made in thirty years. Now I know why I did it. [Editor's note: A little insight into my mind - I am visual. Things don't make sense to me until I can see it. That includes typing or writing it out.]

I’m happy. I’m tired. I’m sleepy. It was worth it. On to the book!