Finished the latest revision of the novel in progress. “Unfocused”. Ended with 402 pages. 74K words. What was that, number five?
Am I happy? Satisifed?
I don’t know.
It feels good. It feels bad.
I’m breathing. Sighing. Wondering. Pondering.
And I’m hungry. As always, it’s the end, or the beginning of the end, which means it’s a beginning or a beginning of another beginning.
That’s the writer life.
Michael Seidel, writer 
Are you sure this is the last revision? Im not a novelist, by any means, but I do know that if you walk away from a project like that for, say a month or so, then come back to it, you might find something that needs fixing. or not. Distance, distance. It’s like finishing a painting, then hiding it for a length of time, and come back to it with fresh eyes. “Omigod look at that sky, They just don’t make skies that color….”
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