When the book is finished, success is bittersweet

Today is the last day of NaNoWriMo and I could be scrambling to find another 3,000 words to write into my story, but I'm not.

In one way, that means I have failed. I've failed to meet the challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days. Now, if you add in my blog posts, well, then I would be way over the word count. But, my story doesn't have 50K words, so technically I've failed.

I'm competitive. I'm persistent. I'm stubborn.

But, I'm done now.

Why?

Because the story is finished. I've reached the end. Agatha has reached her resolution, the only one available to her, so what else is there to write?

I printed out the 99 pages yesterday and thought I might try to read through it today and try to figure out a way to squeeze another 3,000 words in. But, it wouldn't make the story better, it would just be for pride.

And yet, really I don't feel like I've failed, because I've accomplished the real goal, and that was to get this story written down. It's been bouncing around in my head for several years, begging to be told.

I am relieved to be rid of it.

I am delighted with how it turned out.

But, now I have this strange feeling that something is missing from my life. This project that has consumed me for the last thirty days is now over.

I'll spend more time with my family, of course and I'll catch up on some chores, but I'm already thinking about the next story.

Because, for me the stories never end.