I just finished the first draft of my first book today. It’s an odd feeling. Firsts of anything are an odd feeling. First job, first girlfriend, first time getting cut from your job. Both the good and the bad, there is nothing like your first time experience.
For me, I felt a bit melancholy. It’s the end of my first adventure. There are other adventures. In fact, I’m still in the middle of my second story, and many of these characters appear there. This may be the first ending, but it is not the end.
Of course life is filled with firsts and lasts, and the beauty of stories is that you can go back and reread those moments. An old story retold has the ability to impact you in all sorts of new and exciting ways. Characters we may have focused less on the first time may suddenly come to light.
There is also value looking ahead. The hope of the future. The end of the first draft means I will soon start on the second draft, and possibly a third, although I hope not more than that. Then I can look forward to doing the same thing to my second book. Next, I get to publish both books together for the first time, and then hopefully my first sales.
Firsts lead to lasts which lead back to firsts. This is what makes life exciting and infinitely interesting.