Week 52 - The End (of the Beginning)

This has been a bad week. In fact, it’s been a terrible week. If this week had been a record, it would be a Celine Dion album on which she is backed by Kenny G.

But it’s also been a good week. In fact it’s been a wonderful week. If this week had been a record, it would the Beatles’ Revolver; Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks or Jacqueline du Pre playing Elgar’s Cello Concerto.

This has been week 52.

Throughout the last seven days I have worked a number of hours that would make a junior doctor think it had been a long week. I have burned the candle at both ends, in the middle and now am just left with a sad lump of wax.

Nine days ago, I was far behind where I should have been. It called for drastic measures - and that is what it got.

In all my life I don’t think I have ever yawned as much as I did this morning (obviously excepting sitting through Powerpoint presentations and “O” Level maths).

I have subbed my final draft, I have re-written parts, I have changed sections. Sometimes just a word, sometimes whole paragraphs, once an entire page. I have worked in the morning, I have worked when I should have been doing something else (no change there), I have worked in the evening and I have worked in the wee small hours as my wife lay in the next room dreaming of Manolo Blahnik shoes and Colin Firth (hopefully separately).

And has it been worth it?

(insert drum roll).

Yes.

With a day and seven hours until my deadline, it looks like I’m going to make it. Bar a few changes tonight and a name change tomorrow (to avoid the law courts), I am finished.

52 weeks, 365 days, 94,000 words.

A novel.

Tomorrow - on day 365 itself - I will post my final blog. On it, I’ll let you know the title of my book and also what I plan to do next. Because, shocking as this is right now, writing the thing is only the first half of the journey...