You will be happy to know that the first draft of the sequel will be finished very soon. This is good news for me, too. Of all the words that are possible to put down, THE END has its own particular feel. It is at once a relief and a celebration.
It is a relief in that the story has now been told.
Maya Angelou wrote that there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. I find this to be true. It squirms and wiggles in one’s mind until it is released. Why was it written? What will it do? The author rarely knows, even if one thinks one does.
The Epic of Gilgamesh is likely the oldest written story that we have, yet for me, I always think of the words of the Sumerian King, Shuruppak. In his Instructions of Shuruppak, he told his son, Ziusudra, not to pass judgement when drinking beer. Did he realize that his words would last four thousand years? Did he ever imagine who might read them, let alone how they might be read? Could anyone?
There are thousands of great books that have been lost over the centuries, many more than have survived. Each carried a story and a hope that what was written might somehow change the world for the better. Likely they did, but not in the way the author envisaged. This is the wonder of a story. They have their own lives to lead. They are the echoes of what is good inside us all, and the only real proof that we are greater than what our circumstances may imply.