I can't stop now. The average first novel is 80,000 words, which means I am nearly three quarters of the way through mine. There is momentum, unresolved conflict, joys yet to be felt, and celebrations yet to be had.
Rachel leaves Tuesday for her new home in the greater Washington D.C. area. Her poetry keeps getting published, and she keeps reading my fiction with the loyalty and diligence of a true friend. How come we just met? How come she leaves now, at the beginning of things? So much left to share with this new friend of mine - this woman who shares my taste in clothes, my taste for international cooking, and my love of words.
Ugh. My heart is slumped over this weekend, knowing it is the last I'll spend in close proximity to Rachel.
But we won't stop there. 56,000 words is no place to call it quits. There is more to be written, more to be celebrated, and more to be learned. I will write on, and she will write on. This is one story that shall not ever conclude.