I will avoid the use of exclamation marks in this post only by sheer force of will.
I set myself the goal last year that I was going to finish my first novel before I turned 27. (which is like 3 weeks from now or something).
It still needs some editing, some first-readers, and of course a publisher, but it’s going to happen.
I finished it at midnight and then ran through the house yelling “I finished I finished I finished”, then ran to the other house and talked excitedly to my friend there for like five minutes, barely containing this strange and lovely glee.
The best part about finishing it? Now I’ll let myself work on something else. (I’m too keen to start new projects, you see. So I’ve been denying myself most fiction writing, certainly long-form fiction writing, for a bit now so that I would focus on this book.)