The Last Read-Through: One Step Away From “Send”

Five years ago, Jason was nothing more than a collection of late-night musings stuffed into a dog-eared notebook. I’d pick it up, love it fiercely, then set it aside when life demanded louder attention—work deadlines, foster-parent paperwork, diaper runs, the endless spin of “real life.” But a few months ago I felt that old tug again, stronger than ever, and decided: Finish the story or stop pretending you’re writing it.

I chose to finish.

A Stack of Pages and a Storm of Feelings

Today a fresh, 300-plus-page printout sits on my table, still warm from the copier and smelling faintly of toner and possibility. Holding the whole thing in my hands is… well, terrifying. This stack represents five years of false starts, epiphanies, late-night coffee (okay—tea) jolts, tears, and unexpected bursts of laughter.

It also represents all of you—family, friends, beta readers, and generous strangers who cheered me on when imposter syndrome whispered I had no business writing a novel. Your messages, heart-reacts, and “Keep going!” comments made every 2 a.m. revision feel less lonely.

One Last Dive Before Professional Polish

Over the next week I’ll be camped out, hopefully outside in the sunshine—highlighter uncapped, pen poised, sleeves smeared with neon streaks—giving Jason what I hope is his final in-house makeover. I know many writers swear by Track Changes and giant monitors, but for me nothing beats the tactile ritual of ink on paper. There’s something grounding about hearing pages thud into a “Done” pile or doodling arrows in the margins that loop halfway across the sheet.

Maybe it’s the same magic that makes a hardcover feel different from tapping a screen. Paper isn’t just a medium; it’s a tempo. It slows me down, forces me to feel the cadence of every sentence, and reminds me that stories are physical things we pass from hand to hand.

Fear, Excitement—and a Quick Question for You

Am I nervous? Absolutely. Hitting “send” to a professional editor means inviting someone to shine a spotlight on every hidden crack. But I’m more excited, because every tough note brings the book one step closer to the shelf—and to the readers who might need Jason’s story as much as I once did.

So wish me luck as I plunge into this last scribble-fest! And tell me: Do you prefer editing (or reading) on paper, or are you ride-or-die for digital? I’d love to hear your rituals, hacks, and honest opinions in the comments.

Back to the margins I go—tea in hand, sun on my shoulders, and a heart full of gratitude.

Alexis