|Photo courtesy of Teri Chastain|
Despite the demands of work, this week I also read Eva, the novel I just finished writing. It was long, and there were a few specific scenes that felt long in themselves. There were amusing typos (I wish I could remember what now), and some repetitious information.
But more important, there were well-flushed-out characters, witty dialog, and tension-filled scenes. There were a few points where I laughed out loud (always a good sign in a book I tried to write funny). There were even a few well-turned phrases and lines that impressed me (really, I wrote that?).
Final verdict: it's a book.
I don't say that lightly. Writing 400 or so pages does not mean you've written a book. It could still be missing a third act (a la book two and three in my writing history), or be at the halfway mark (like book one), or a jumbled squish of two stories into one (as book five turned out to be).
But it's not. It's a complete story, with a beginning, middle, and end, character growth, plot evolution, ten fingers, and ten toes.
I'm pleased, to say the least.