I’ve set a goal for myself of finishing the first draft of the novel this week, and I’m almost there. So very, very close. I estimate that I have another four to five thousands words to go.

For years, I told myself that I didn’t have the temperament for long fiction–that I’d just stick to poetry–but the truth is that I romanticized the process to such a high degree to excuse myself from having to attempt it. And risk failing at it.

Well, I’ve finally reached the point where I don’t care about failing. I have to do this thing, or I’ll be miserable and shortchanging myself on something I care deeply about. Now it’s almost here: the day when I can say that I’ve written a novel.

No romance, no drama–just sitting in the chair and writing a few hundred words every day.

Milo the Dreamer