Today I finished my fifth novel.

Tomorrow, it will be a gift for my son on his eighth birthday.

I await the sense of release, the great pocket of freedom that opens up when a large file is deleted.

Last December a man walked into the SweetLife Cafe wearing nothing at all but his socks. Today, eight months later, that man shuffled out again into the world.  What episodes connect the one with the other?

These are the contents of my son’s novel.

Awaiting the release that comes from writing ‘The End’ at the bottom of the final page, it occurs to me.

I won’t feel satisfied until my son has read it. The novel is finished, but not complete. The novel needs a reader.

That is all.

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