I'm approaching one of the most bittersweet moments for a writer.
It's the end of a long and passionate affair. We've been together for what feels like years. The relationship has grown and grown, we've dominated each other's lives...
And now it's all coming to an end.
Yes, I've got just two chapters left to write of the new book (the second in my young adults series), and it's a very strange feeling.
On the one hand, I shall miss it dreadfully. It's been a mainstay of my life for so long and I've loved the story greatly.
On the other... I feel the need to try something new. I'm tired, could do with a rest from the daily writing it, planning it, writing it routine.
But there's one important lesson which is making me play out these final days slowly.
Perhaps you've had the same experience as me? You get into a book, you really enjoy it, you look forward to finding out how it ends, then you get to the conclusion...
And it feels rushed, over too soon, not quite true and right.
I often get the impression that a fellow author has been in the same position as me and just wanted to get the book done.
The result is an anticlimax, which feels like it betrays all the work that's gone into the novel.
So I'm being careful to take it gently, play out the drama, and make the ending of our time together satisfying.
And all that in the comforting knowledge it won't actually be so very long before we get back together again.
For the re-write, and the re-re-write, and then the re-re-re write... but that, as the saying goes, is another story.