There is something incredibly satisfying about writing The End.
Even when I know those words aren't really true.
When I started writing in 2023, I thought the process was relatively simple.
Write the book.
Edit the book.
Publish the book.
Write another one.
And technically, yes. Those things happen. I've learned there are actually two moments in an author's life that can feel like The End.
Happens when you finish the draft.
Happens when you finally publish it.
Neither one actually means the story is over.
The First Draft Belongs to Me
I don't write my books from detailed outlines.
I write from emotional threads.
Most of my stories begin with what I call a dream spark—usually a heavy emotional moment that arrives before I understand the entire story around it.
Some authors get a scene and build a book around that scene. I tend to follow the emotion underneath it.
What happened to make this moment hurt this much?
Who are these people to each other?
What happened before this?
What happens because of it?
That emotional thread becomes something I can follow through the story. I may know certain moments I need to reach, but I don't always know exactly how the characters are going to get me there.
That's why my first drafts contain so much discovery. Then I let the story take me there.
Characters become more important than I expected.
Connections to other DOVU books appear.
Something I wrote casually fifty pages ago suddenly matters.
Sometimes the character I thought I understood decides I apparently know nothing.
That's the fun part.
The first draft gets to be messy.
It gets to belong completely to me.
Its only real responsibility is to exist.
Eventually, though, I reach those two beautiful little words.
The End.
And then I have to figure out what I actually wrote.
Before I Edit, I Let Someone Else Into the Room
This part of my process has become really important to me.
I don't immediately finish a draft, turn around, and start editing it alone.
First, my Alpha reader and I go through it.
I read the story with her.
We talk.
We talk about the characters, the moments that landed, the places where something doesn't make sense, the things she noticed that I didn't realize I was doing.
And because she's outside of my head, she can see something I can't:
what is actually on the page.
As the author, I know too much.
I know someone's history.
I know why a character responded the way they did.
I know about connections that might not become important until another book.
I know the information I meant to put on the page.
That doesn't necessarily mean I actually put it there.
Those conversations give me my first opportunity to experience the story beside someone who didn't create it.
Then I go back in.
That's when editing begins.
Then Comes My Quiet Inner Circle
After those revisions, the book eventually reaches my Round One Beta readers.
This group is intentionally small.
And access is only offered to my email subscribers as a special thank-you for being part of DOVU.
I've come to love having this quiet inner circle of readers.
They're people who are learning the DOVU.
They recognize names.
They remember connections.
They're not afraid to tell me when something isn't working.
And somehow they manage to fall in love with some of these characters almost as much as I do—sometimes I'm convinced they love them more.
That's something I never really imagined when I started writing.
Writing itself is incredibly solitary.
It's me, a screen, some music, probably coffee, and imaginary people creating problems.
Then suddenly someone else knows them.
Someone else is worried about them.
Someone is mad at them.
Someone has theories.
Someone noticed the tiny thing I buried several chapters ago.
That's when the story begins becoming something other than mine.
Reader Feedback Isn't About Writing the Book for Me
I think this distinction matters.
I don't hand a manuscript to readers because I want them to tell me what story to write.
The story is still mine.
The characters are still mine.
But readers can show me what it's like to experience the story without all the information living inside my head.
Sometimes one person reacts to something.
Sometimes several people react to the same thing.
That's when I start paying attention.
Where did you get confused?
What did you remember?
What did you think was going to happen?
Who did you trust?
What made you angry?
What hurt?
What did you completely miss?
And occasionally, Wait. You noticed THAT?
Those reactions become another layer of information I can bring back into the manuscript. Then the book returns to me again.
Eventually, “The End” Becomes Published
There are more stages between those two points.
More readers.
More edits.
Formatting.
Final files.
BookFunnel.
Amazon.
All the tiny administrative pieces that aren't particularly glamorous but somehow turn a document on my computer into an actual book someone can hold or open on their Kindle.
Eventually, there comes a point when I have to stop touching it.
That's difficult in its own way.
Because I could probably change a sentence forever.
At some point I have to decide: This is the version I'm letting go.
And then I publish it.
That should be the end, right? I used to think so.
Except Baby Girl Is Still Here
This November (25th, 2026) marks one year since I published Baby Girl.
One entire year.
And that book hasn't disappeared into my backlist while I moved on to something else.
If anything, I've realized how much life a story can have after publication.
I still talk about Meg.
I still talk about Jax.
I still find pieces of their story that I want to share.
Gone Bad brings me back into things established in Baby Girl.
Other DOVU stories create connections that make earlier moments mean something different.
And new readers are still meeting these characters for the first time.
That's one of the reasons I share fragments of my books on social media instead of constantly trying to summarize an entire plot.
A line.
An object.
A location.
A character moment.
A photograph that feels like somewhere inside the story.
A tiny connection to another book.
Those fragments keep the world alive.
They let someone discover one little piece without me standing there saying, Here is what my book is about and why you should buy it.
Maybe that fragment means nothing to them yet.
Maybe it makes them curious.
Or maybe they've already read the book and immediately know exactly why I shared it.
I love that.
Published Doesn't Mean Finished Existing
I think that's one of the biggest things DOVU has changed about the way I see publishing.
A book can be finished without becoming finished with.
I don't want to publish stories that get one launch window and then quietly disappear because I've moved on to promoting the next thing.
Especially not inside an interconnected universe.
Baby Girl matters to Gone Bad.
The Belmonte Trilogy matters to stories growing beyond it.
Characters have histories that don't stop existing because their book isn't the newest release anymore.
Everything leaves something behind.
That's the entire point of building DOVU as a web instead of a straight line of books.
There will always be another thread to follow backward.
Maybe There Isn't Really an “End”
The first The End means:
I found the story.
Then my Alpha reader enters the room.
I edit.
My quiet inner circle gets their hands on it.
I listen.
I revise.
The manuscript keeps becoming more completely itself, until eventually I decide it's ready.
Then publishing gives me another ending.
The book is finished.
But even that isn't really The End.
Because readers haven't experienced it yet. They haven't found their favorite character. They haven't noticed the clues.
They haven't made connections I didn't expect them to make.
And I haven't finished finding little pieces of that story worth bringing back into the light.
One year later, Baby Girl is still doing exactly that.
Maybe that's what I misunderstood when I imagined my career would look like:
Write → Publish → Write.
I thought publishing meant I would close one book and move forward to the next.
Instead, I'm building a universe where every new story gives me another reason to look backward.
The manuscript eventually ends.
The editing eventually ends.
At some point, I even have to stop changing the damn sentences and publish the thing.
But the story?
I don't think that part ever really has to end.
Made with love, AM 🖤
