These past few months, I feel like I've been working on two separate chapters of my life. Actually, it would be more honest to call them books - they're totally separate manuscripts, sequels with shared characters that can exist separately. And the division between them is too great for merely a change in chapters, readers could easily get lost in the jump.
The first was written, barring a few last sentences and a bit of tedious editing that required revision, reviewing and the occasional few hours of attention.
The other soared along, the pages flowing freely, with new stories, developments and analysis everyday. This story, and its characters, are constantly evolving, and the ending remains a surprise.
Balancing these two stories was sometimes challenging. But today, that first book is finally closed - and I get the satisfaction of slipping it safely away on a shelf, a part of my past with a proper ending.
And this new story? Well, it's simply amazing.
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