A joyous birth

No, I speak of no bairns. However, after fifteen months and twenty-four days I came, last night, to the conclusion of of a grand project. I finished the first draft of my first novel.

The genesis of the whole thing goes back to November 1972 when I wrote a serial bedtime story for fellow grad students at UCLA. There followed a sequel, a novella in about 100 single-spaced pages. I was in full mini-Tolkien mode but did not pursue writing all the chronicles that inhabited my head.

It all came back with a vengeance in early 2006 and I revised the original tale, began rewriting the sequel, started the final story of the cycle, and then realized that perhaps I should begin at the beginning.

That beginning, a story that was only an outline in my head for at least thirty-two years, began to grow on the page (or disk, if you will). The adventure was far grander and more complex than I imagined (though still shorter than the seventh volume of Harry Potter).

It is fun to imagine a world and put it into words. I am now reading the whole thing through from beginning to end for the first time. Great fun.

More news will come with time, but that is the biggest thing in my life this week.
--the BB