Almost done.

As I finish the editing portion of me latest draft, and cringe at beginning the adding portion of it, I pause to reflect on my work. I started this story two long years ago after I finally got frustrated at only dreaming up the story. With only a few short stories and an nearly-completed fantasy world under my belt, the task seemed daunting. Scared, I picked up my pen, bought a new note book and started to write.

Two years down the road, two weddings (One my own and one my older brothers), a graduation (My younger sister's), relocating to the city of Prince George, about a thousand threats to burn my work and about a thousand more to throw my aging computer out of my fourth floor apartment's window, I am nearly done. I have written 381 pages and 89 thousand words. I have created a world and torn it apart in the process of my story.

I have edited and re-edited my work, created thrilling characters, only to sadly hit the delete button on them later. I have destroyed a world and created a new one.

I now look to the future. Do I write a book two? Do I try and finish my un-finishable world? Do I write a different story? Which story do I choose? I have about three dozen and counting... Do I burn all of my work right after I throw my Pentium 4 out of the window to watch it spin helplessly to the ground. Shall I watch it smash into the ground and watch the tiny pieces of its existence scattering into nothingness on the pavement.

Or do I go and buy a beer...