I typed ‘the end’ yesterday.

So far I have resisted the urge to run up and down my street shouting ‘I’VE FINISHED!!!’ into the faces of passers by, but this is only because I live in a small town. The chances of me becoming ‘the talk’ are considerably high and I come from a relatively respectable family. Instead I have allowed myself a small celebratory YAY!  because I know that  it isn’t really the end.

The end of a first draft is just the beginning of the painstaking work of editing.  Already, I know that there are a number of structural changes that I will need to make, namely splitting two of my chapters into four and adding a brand new chapter. And then there’s the business of fine tuning the language and the general tightening up of it all. This will take time, I think. And some space.

It’s interesting to go back to chapters that I wrote over twelve months ago and see things that I hadn’t seen at the time of writing. And of course, now that I’ve reached the end, my thinking about about the story’s development has shifted slightly.Fundamentally the narrative of The Empty Mirror hasn’t changed since its inception, but some of the characters have emerged slightly differently to my original thinking about them. It’s also a relief that at this stage that I’m more able to communicate what the novel is about in a succinct way. No more ‘Well, it’s about… well, you see, there’s this girl and her mum and her mum and blah blah blah’ for me. I’ve got it down to 140 twitter characters – almost as proud of this fact as I am about writing the first draft, which is sad and says alot about where I spend too much of my time.

Anyway, once more unto the breach…