so i guess i wasn't wrong

I am a writer.

I've known this since the third grade, but it has recently become official because after a year and a half, two thick spiral notebooks, a much-edited playlist, twenty dead pens and too many hours of typing, I have completed my first novel.

That sounds a little snobbish, probably, but I did. I wrote a story that is 75,311 words and 162 pages long and it's full of errors, typos, unecessary scences, confusing and contradicting details and a messy plot. Frankly, it's pretty awful.

But the beautiful thing is, I don't really care.

Because it's a certified novel.

Which means I'm a novelist.

Which means I guess I wasn't wrong in the third grade--I really am a writer.

Am I bragging? Yeah, a little. And I'm sorry about it. But I'm just so excited I can't exactly help it. That's the other gorgeous thing--the excitement, the knowledge that I WROTE A DAMN NOVEL.

If I can do that, I can do freakin' anything...or at least, I can try. And believe me, I'm going to try.