Finish Line

Well, I did it. At approximately 5:00 on Monday, December 3, I finished the first draft of the book that I'm calling Second Chances (who knows what the publisher will decide to call it. Authors have little or no say over that). It's not really done in that I have a lot of changes I want to make, especially to the first half, but nothing major needs to change in the plot, in the characterization; just information that I want to introduce at a later time than it is now and a change to the prologue. Then there's the inevitable fleshing out of scenes that are just sketched at this point and then polishing up the language and punctuation.

Then the scary part. Getting it sold. But we won't think about that yet. When I think about the business end of the business, I get completely terrified and find myself unable to write. So we're not going to think about it. Yet.

Now that I'm taking a day or two to unwind, to catch up on my life, already in progress, I realize how much of me writing has been taking up. Not just my time, but my attention, my presence. I've spent the better part of the last year living in a world that doesn't exist. A town that is so real for me that I can show you, on the map, exactly where it would be if it did exist. Characters who are so well known and dear to me that I would pick their photos out of a group of snapshots. No wonder other people have been finding it difficult talking with me. Why my husband complains that I've not been here most of the time. It's true. I've not.

I wonder, is this how it is for other writers? Do we, as a group, leave our current surroundings when we're in the throes of creating a fictional work? I'm going to have to ask my CritGirls (tm)
when I see them later tonight.

If there are any other writers reading this blog, please feel free to comment. I truly curious.

So, now to the mundane task of folding laundry. Life is so strange that after the celebration, there is always laundry.