Yesterday, Michael brought home the first draft of my latest novel. He printed it up and brought it to me. I felt strange when he handed it to me, though strange in a good way. Although this might sound ridiculous, I felt as if holding a child in my arms -- greeting my baby.
I don't know precisely why that is the case, but writers tend to create emotional bonds with their work. Characters, even the mean ones, are always very dear to us. I suppose readers also develop attachments to the stories they like the most. For instance, I speak for many when I say that Harry Potter shall always be a great friend.
This novel, in particular, is very important to me. Although I can't tell you a lot about it, I would like to say that it definitely represents a transition in my life. I've been writing since I was a kid, but this story is the watershed that separates my childhood and my adult life. It brought me great happiness and great pain, too, and I believe this mixture of feelings allowed my writing to become more mature. Oh, how I wish I could tell you more, but I'm superstitious, and I suppose I can't say a word about this story before I publish it.
Thank you, and don't forget to wish me good luck. I'll need it.