I finally finished my second novella, ‘The Boy Who Heard Death’, published in Cell Novels.

It came to 13 chapters and 1 epilogue. I wrote the 12th chapter one week ago. The last chapter, the 13th one, I had an idea as to what should go down in it. But there was a sense of incompleteness, of dissatisfaction. I knew that if I wrote what I had in mind then, I would not really feel a sense of closure (yes, closure. Writing books is pleasurable to me, but after sometime it feels like a burden. It is a bitter sweet relation).

So I waited. I don’t know for what. The flashes of inspiration, of ideas come upon suddenly. There is no specific reason why. I experienced it while writing my first novella and now I waited, for it to come again during the second.

And it finally came to me yesterday evening. I was just looking out at the rainy sky, thinking of nothing in particular, or maybe I was, but it came to me in a flash. And I knew this was the ending I was waiting for.

So I took up the keyboard this morning, and typed it all out. And now, I feel full, happy, satisfied.

Writing is the best.

I will soon publish the remaining 8 chapters in this site too.

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