Ten minutes ago I typed the last words of the novel. I don’t know what to do. It’s staring at me. About 115,000 words staring back at me, forming one continuing narrative with a strong main character. And now their story is complete. Well, this reworking of it, anyway. And this reworking was major. I got rid of competing subplots, adding some complimentary ones, clarified points…
…but now. Deep sigh. For now, it’s done. And I can’t look at it for at least a week. I can’t even think about it for a week. My brain needs to leave it behind. No lingering. Simply… farewell.
And in a week I’ll be back to take the next swat at it. Another revision, tinkering with all the fine points and making sure all the little gears still fit together. Does this sentence flow well? Is that the correct grammar? Now, I realize it’s a fantasy world, but there are still conventions of spelling. I’m fairly certain “hfdjka;lh” is actually a typo and not the battle-cry of a crazed dwarf. And in a week I’ll begin that battle.
But now… I finished typing. And I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t start another program on the computer. I don’t dare close the one I just finished.
It’s like the end of a good movie, I suppose. The credits roll, but you don’t want to stand. Your brain can’t quite switch gears to a different story or even reality. You need some down time between fantasy and reality, simply because you were submerged too long in too strong a world. I’m not saying my novel is the most fantastic thing since Tolkien; I’m more than a little biased. But when you write, when you submerge yourself in your own world… it’s intoxicating.
It’s going to be hard not coming back here tomorrow. It’s going to be hard not revisiting my characters… I want to see how they’re doing. But right now I can’t start over. I want to see what comes next… and I can’t go beyond. Maybe someday, but I need to polish this novel first.
So, deep sigh. Relax.
I think I need a drink.