Every writer remembers the first word. When we begin, we have possibility. It can be exciting, full of promise, and the ideas are flowing! Those ideas just run out of our brains and on to the paper with such anticipation. We have begun a good work indeed! 

However, I submit that the most powerful word in any project is not the first one. It is the last. That last final word. And it is never simply the last word.

Whether you’re writing a novel, a blog post, a devotion, or even a journal entry, the last word represents something so much bigger than the end of a sentence. 

It represents perseverance and endurance. The last word says, “I stayed.”  I stayed when the ideas stopped flowing. I stayed when self-doubt whispered that no one would care what I had to say.

I stayed when life interrupted my writing schedule and deadlines came and went in the blink of an eye.

I stayed when editing felt harder than writing and when I wondered if the story would ever be good enough.

That was me on my current project. What a feeling I had when I typed the last word of my new book, See Me With Your Heart, which was four plus years in the making. When I sent the manuscript to my wonderful publisher, I knew it wasn’t perfect, but it was finished.

Honestly, I was scared of letting it go. The characters had lived in my head for so long, but I had to set the baby free! I had to overcome the feeling that I had to tweak this and that just a little bit more. I struggled with wondering if anyone but me would find it a good story.

The last word isn’t simply typed. It is earned. I had to celebrate myself when I realized “I actually did it”! I stared at the screen, and I can admit I got a little teary.  I had completed a manuscript for a full novel. I was happy and sad at the same time. I know it sounds confusing, but I had lived in that world for so long. Telling the story had been so time-consuming. Then it was over! The story was told. And this was a major accomplishment for me. I did something I never thought I would do. At age 62, I will publish my first work of fiction. Wow!

But the real work had only begun. When it came back to me with edits and questions, I was engulfed once again. And I had a startling realization.

I found that I was not the same writer I was when I started the project. The manuscript had changed and so had I. That last word wasn’t truly the end of the project; it was the end of the writer I used to be.

Working on the edits showed me where I had grown. As I sorted through the plot, rewrote a scene or two, accepted wonderful Ruth’s questions and suggestions, and put my own experiences into the journey of my main character, I felt so much stronger. This was my declaration that I had actually finished what I started. To me, this meant that I was truly an author. I know I have my blog and first books, but this novel makes it official for me in my heart.

As authors, we spend countless hours chasing the perfect sentence, deleting paragraphs, rewriting chapters, and questioning ourselves. We often believe the magic is found somewhere in the middle of the manuscript. While much of the work does happen there, the victory comes at the end.

The last word means you finished. It doesn’t mean the work is ready to print. In fact, most projects continue through revisions, edits, proofreading, formatting, and publishing. But none of those things can happen until there is a last word to revise.

Completion creates possibility.

That final word becomes the bridge between your imagination and someone else’s life. It transforms an idea into something that can encourage, teach, entertain, heal, or inspire another person.

That is what makes this writing journey beautiful for me. I often say that if one person is touched by something I say or write, then I know I did what God called me to do.

So, we celebrate the last word. Because without it, there is no finished work. No one reads it. No one can be impacted by your experiences.

Have an unfinished project? What you’re struggling through today may lead you to the word that changes everything. Someone is waiting for what only you can say.

Do the work and complete what you started. Your work deserves to exist. Trust that the last word is really the first word of everything that comes next.