Lessons from a writer who has fought to reach The End (twice).
Revision Reflection: 03
I’ve struggled with unraveling the emotions I have surrounding finishing the second draft of my novel and conquering the major rewrite that was my ACT Three. I feel like a changed writer from Draft One, even more so, a changed writer from the edits made in each ACT of this second draft.
The final ACT of this novel challenged my characters through every hardship I had thought they needed to walk through to achieve the reflections made at the end. There were breakups, disownings, and surprising wins that quickly followed heart-wrenching losses for some and death for others. There was clarity on the possibilities that could be created, and fear of the unknowns that lingered throughout their transformations.
First Draft (Left) and Second Draft (Right) Covers I made to get a printed copy
I knew the end of this novel was a major emotional task, and I wasn’t sure I could carry it through. But by forcing my characters to face their aching pains, I was able to see where my own pains were harboring. My emotions were more intense during this drafting stage, which made it more difficult to go to the page each day to write these past few months.
But as I saw the end of this story near, I knew I needed to be in a space that allowed me to seclude into this fictional world, to feel as the characters felt, to immerse in their tragedies and healing, with no barriers or excuses stifling that process. I physically needed a change of scenery to write the ending. So I booked myself a solo writing retreat for a two-night stay in a treehouse studio in Springfield, and I am so grateful I did!
Finding Answers In The Trees
I felt immense anxiety immediately as I entered alone into the unfamiliar space. I didn’t feel the torturous comforts of the excuses that prevented me from facing The End. I journaled, walked the neighborhood, then recentered myself back to the task at hand: to experience the beauty in someone telling their story. For those 48 hours, I was able to flow into my story’s world with no distractions, pacing my writing in a way that honored my creative self, and allowed the book to speak on its own without outsider noises.
When I first started revising this draft, I thought I should be able to say why this story was an important read by the time I finished it. To have proclaimed and proved why this story mattered, why it was worth the read. But once finishing, I recognized I was asking the wrong questions of this manuscript.
The ending isn’t asking why the story was important. But rather which emotions were most important to feel?
Questioning which messages by my characters and their world were most difficult to say but were present through every moment of their journey? As the writer, the only answer to that question was through discovery, is by writing, repeatedly, to find it. I hate that that’s the answer, but it’s the right answer for this stage of creation.
I stopped asking myself why my book is important. Because a book’s importance is always relative; and important to whom? I shifted to discovering what it was trying to tell me. Through my characters’ actions, through where the story’s scenes wanted to take place, and the conflicts that arose from that. Exploring what those moments meant to those characters and, by reflection, what those moments mean to me. And I think through that exploration and discovery, it showed me the importance of why the story needed to be told in these specific ways. (btw thank you to my girl Nikki J. for broaching these types of convos/insights with me. Keep writing girl, you’ll find the answers! ❤️)
With the immense responsibility to be in conversation with this story, I was able to get to the end of it, 10 months later, with an answer, an understanding of what the book is saying it is.
A story of fighting with and living as your truest self.
In the final night of my stay in this treehouse studio, I wrote just under 5,000 words total, finishing the whole draft at 89,865 words! (532 pages-A5 size)
I finished my draft, then cried. For many reasons.
I cried with panic because of the unexpected emptiness I immediately felt from having no more words to give to the story. I cried with joy for having the strength to prove to myself I can find the answers even when I felt my weakest.
I cried with empathy for the long journey my characters had to persevere through, then chuckled at being the one who did it to them. Only to see their revenge in the increased number of words/chapters future Alina would be left to revise.
But I see what this story is now! And that is my true reward for finishing this second draft. The castle is built, and its crest has formed! I can now make my plans to oil each hinge of the openings and closings it has at the foundations, to hopefully get inside and decorate with my own beauty and style next.
But as the year closes out, I’m taking these final months of 2026 to rest, to reflect, to process, and to hope for the future of what this story can look like. And I hope you join me and follow along to find out its possibilities as well.
The TLDR
Hey! I’m Alina. I’m a Black lesbian writer and poet from Chicago. I’m currently on the exciting, yet trying, adventure of writing my first full-length novel that I aim to get traditionally published!
The Last Dance In The Disco Inferno
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The Last Dance In The Disco Inferno 〰️
* Elaine “Dayna Darkness” Sims was the rising queer disco dancing queen of the 70’s—until she vanished. For decades, the reclusive former starlet traded the glitter of the disco ball for a life of isolation, never sharing why.
Tori Robinson has left her home in New York as her BIPOC curation nonprofit had crumbled, destroyed by her ex-co-founder’s fraudulent dealings. The opportunity to rebrand with a Chicago University fellowship exhibition motivates her to find a showstopping story to archive and distance herself from the threats her ex-co-founder claims to further falsify Tori’s reputation.
Archival photos lead Tori to Elaine’s doorstep with a career-changing mission for them both: a tell-all showcase of the icon’s life and a chance for Elaine to return a promise she long broke.
Both women are eager to protect their legacies, as Elaine’s labyrinth of dark memories ignites Tori’s own hidden fears. Together, their reflections on lost love, scandalous betrayals, and life-ending tragedies force them to ask: Do you still perform when there’s no one left? Who gets to tell your story?
The only thing for certain is that the truth is the only thing that doesn’t burn in the disco inferno.
*working synopsis
