This goes somewhat hand-in-hand with my previous lesson from 2010. But this year, I learned I can finish. I finished a lot of things this year. Well, a lot for me. I'm not as prolific as some other writers. I marvel, literally, at some of the totals I see writers crank out every day. But this year I finished several short stories and flash pieces. And this year I learned that I can finish something longer than a short story.
When I typed the final words on Chasing Filthy Lucre I put the final touches on what is the longest piece I've ever finished. It's not the longest piece I've ever written. I've got a few pieces on my hard drive that are unfinished that are longer. But that's the thing, they are unfinished. And there is something special about finishing. There is something that's encouraging about getting to the end. For me, that's one of the things that made me feel like a real writer. Because real writers finish things. They don't have just a hard drive full of started stories. They get to write the end. They come to the final chapter and put a bow on all the action. It's something I'd not done, and it feels good.