The final sprint.

I’ve been known to run a marathon back in my day. And an ultramarathon. And hell, even an Ironman triathlon (yes, the full 140.6 mile race). Yeah, I am fully aware that I am a special breed of crazy. I don’t like to half ass anything; if I’m going to do something, I go balls out and just go big.

Which is probably why I outgrew the notion of short stories early on in my life.

Writing this novel has been a lot like those endurance races.

You start off strong. Excited. Keeping a steady pace of one...