Reason for stopping: See above.
I did good today. It is not a sin to stop in the middle of a chapter. It is not. Is not. Is not.
Yep, it's the last bit of the novel. The downhill slope. The part where I can see everything I need to go back and fix, because I can see the way the threads all have to come together now.
The part where I can't wait to get the book out of my head.
The part where I want nothing in the world more than to hold on to it for as long as possible, because once it's done it's done, and it's like a fabulous consuming love affair that--pfft--dies with the winter.
Finishing a book is like selling a house you loved. You walk around on the bare pine floors looking at the freshly painted walls, and all the cabinet doors are open and empty and all the shoes are out of the basement. And you know before you shut the front door that you may drive past it and see that they've planted roses, or they've let the lawn go to seed, but you'll never walk through that door again.
But it's also a little bit like sending a kid off to college. So that's okay, too.