Oh my various gods, this fucking end.
I can't find it. I found the final battle and the final conflict (not the same!) and I wrote them, and... I don't know. Is that it? Are we done? It doesn't feel done. I feel like I've just missed, somehow.
Or, as Z. put it: "You hit the lung, but you're trying for the heart."
Yes. Exactly. Blood and froth and air rushing into the chest cavity and thrashing and choking but not dead yet.
I have a zero-draft. I should just go watch some Midsomer Murders and knit and let it rest. But it's making me anxious and irritable and this coffee is probably not helping.
Some days, you write the book. Some days, it kicks your ass and laughs at you.
