So I finished The Flyers, the Swimmers, and the Walkers last night. I completed the final revisions, after much angst and after spending far more time on this project then I ever intended. 92,488 words. It’s done. Finished. Complete. I should celebrate. I even have a query written. There’s still the matter of the synopsis. Today’s task.
And then what?
When I’m writing, I’m full of hope, full of anticipation. When I’m finished, reality floods back in and the Voices start: who are you kidding? This sucks. Hope you like rejection ’cause you’re in for it big time.
Someone tell me how to shut the Voices up.
This isn’t just a manuscript. It’s three years of my life that I will never get back. Three years of typing, thinking, creating, falling in and out of love and then falling back in love again. Three years of fighting distractions, of struggling, giving up, starting over, giving up some more and starting again. Three years of working at an exhausting day job and writing during lunchtimes, early in the morning, late at night, weekends. In my sleep.
I had to buy a new keyboard yesterday. I wore the old one out.
Bye-bye, Grace. Bye-bye, A’Tac. Bye-bye, Jack – sorry I had to kill you off. Thanks for choosing me to tell your story. I will miss you.