I'm finished. After six months, three weeks, and two days, I now have a completed manuscript for book one of a work tentatively called The Paths Life Takes. I hooked up my removable floppy disc drive to my ancient laptop and copied it on to disc, ready to take to the printers on a moment's notice should the need arise.

My main reaction right now is one of relief. It was starting to feel like the proverbial albatross around my neck. Until I had finished editing, reformatting, and preparing it for printing, I didn't feel able to continue on with part two of the story. With book one incomplete, it didn't seem right that I let the characters continue on with their journey.

I think part of that was because of how fast I wrote the first draft. I didn't really feel like I had gotten to know my characters all that well because I hadn't spent a great deal of time with them yet. We had been introduced briefly, spent a small but intense time together, and hadn't talked since - sort of like someone you meet at a party with whom you have a great conversation but don't talk to again. You know something about them, but only as it pertains to the topic of conversation. It's not until you have a chance to meet the person in the cold light of day, away from the exhilarated atmosphere of a party, and whatever was feeding your exhilaration, that you begin to form a truer picture of their character.

That's the way I felt in regards to the people who were populating this world I had created. I had spent time with them under very specific circumstances - hellbent for leather to get a first draft done, but hadn't really gotten to know them yet. So much of what I had written during the first draft phase had been by instinct alone that I had no idea of what details I may or may not have included for each person.

What colour were their eyes? How old were they? What's their favourite food? What colour is their hair? Being their creator, I can see each one of them in my mind's eye. As I was writing the story I was watching them carry out the actions I described. But what kind of image had I painted for the reader?

I wasn't interested in having painted a completely realistic portrait where ten pages are spent describing each person in minute detail down to their preference in toenail length. But it was also important that enough information be provided that each reader would be able to form a picture of the person they were reading about in their head.