The End

I did not type those actual words, The End, to the final page of my manuscript, but I did finish the book. And rather abruptly, as it turns out. Last week, the morning I left for my annual visit to my mother’s summer place in Maine, I spent an hour or so adding necessary information my friend Rob, a carpenter, had given me about a half-finished building in the book. But then I had to go, leaving a few things undone. The first morning I could after I got back from Maine, I opened the document again, expecting there was enough work left to do that I wouldn’t finish the book that day either. In fact, it took me about fifteen minutes. Writing the accompanying email to my agent took longer. The end came quickly.

So, Time Passages is done. For now. Paige Wheeler, my literary agent, has assigned one of her new interns to do the first read, then Paige will review it. I expect she will ask for revisions. That is fine so long as she thinks it’s good. Thinks it’s worthy of publication. So long as this book, which I began four years ago and kept plugging away at throughout health challenges and a worldwide pandemic, was worth the effort.

Personally, I think it’s good. Any revisions Paige suggests will only make it better.

In the meantime, I’ve already started my next book with the working title of On the Borders. The idea for it came to me about a month ago, triggered by a minor character in Time Passages. Already I’m having so much fun. Writing is the best!

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In which I blog about the days I write and the days I don’t write; about teaching about writing; about reading (which is never enough); and occasionally about music, because sometimes a three-minute song can tell as good a story as a novel.

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