My friend Phil Lemos finished the first draft of his novel yesterday. In blogging about it he wrote something that touched me deeply (for reasons both obvious and not-so-very-obvious):
"I may never get this puppy published. But at least when I'm on my deathbed I'll be able to say I wrote a novel."
To start something is easy. To prevail to the end (even if it's only the first end) is, I think, heroic when the only "reward" of which one can be certain is that the work will matter just because the work has happened.
Bravo, Phil. "Bravo!" to all of my writer friends who have finished the things they have started. And "Bravo!" to all who are still making the work happen (which is, as you all know, each and every one of us).
Check out his post here. And tell him I sent you.