One of the most difficult things in writing is spending a year with a character, listening to her pain, loving her, and then, after a whole year, having to part with her. To let her go. Because her story is not for this book. I am now gently cutting the pieces of her out of the manuscript, and packing them away into one of the hundreds of folders with unused material. Yes, it hurts. I came to love her. But I also realized, painfully, that she isn’t fully ready to emerge yet, with all her complexities. She has yet to figure out her future, and she is going of her own free will. You will be missed, but not forgotten. You will come back one day, when you are ready to tell your story. Thank you for teaching me and showing me the way, and thank you for letting go, for now.
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