The last time I got to the end of my first draft of a novel, I cried. And moped for days. I’m hoping to avoid that this time around, but still haven’t figured out how.
I’m approaching the end of the new book, and I find myself trying to delay the inevitable. Writing scenes I hadn’t planned to put in, slowing progress from a couple thousand words a day down to barely a thousand. Even taking the whole weekend off from writing.
I think I can only drag it out for another week. I know I have lots and lots of work to do cleaning up this book, adding details, making sure my evidence is consistent, etc, and I have plenty of time to do it. I’ve got two months scheduled for re-writes and ‘fluffing’ (more on that in an upcoming post) before handing off to my wonderful editor Marti McKenna in April. Here’s what I’m hoping:
- Maybe since I’m expecting an emo meltdown, I won’t have one.
- Maybe if I avoid typing “The End” I can trick myself out of the postpartum book blues.
- Maybe if I can come up with a “Yay I’m done!” ritual, I can pass over the mean reds.
I wrote about end-of-book rituals back in August when I finished Schooled, but still haven’t come up with any answers.
So, I drag my feet.