No, not the second book that I ever finished, but my actual second book. Unlike normal people who generally scrap the first book they write. I am still praying and working on getting my first book published. I never could let go of the idea, and I'm still writing this story that I'm planning on being a four book series.
I knew all day that it was going to be done today. I knew it as I scribbled some of the last pages down on a stripped notebook. I had stolen my younger sister's pink, unicorn pencil, and it help craft my ending. I wrote it all on my laptop and continued where I had to stop on paper.
I was curled up on the couch. My dad was doing his taxes and I was writing and watching Jack Sparrow fight undead pirates. I'm so glad to be done it, I did a happy dance and squealed (quietly because kids were sleeping).
The point is that I did it, I had plenty of excuses. Puberty comes to mind, and other issues. I also just realized that these books reflect my inner journey. I mean JR.Tolkien took his time and it was for the best. I'm just glad that I didn't let anything stop me.