I’ve finished writing the last book in a six-book series. I thought it would be finished about a week ago, but it had other ideas.
A few nights ago, at 11:45 pm, the first draft of the final story about a certain warspawn rogue was finished. First draft. The ugly, little nugget is far from a polished gem.
When I emerged from my writing cave, blinking in the harsh winter’s light, I felt a bit empty, a bit ‘loosendish’, like I’d just woken from one of those really vivid dreams, the kind that stay with you, the kind that clings like cobweb. But I was happy to have finally, after a year and a half of shenanigans, got to this point. As all know, life sometimes gets in the way of even the best laid plans.
Anyway, we’re here on the final lap of what has been one hell of a ride. I’m not even going to look at the manuscript for a couple of weeks, put some distance between me and it. When I go back in to do the first edit, I’ll be able to look at it dispassionately without all the fevered emotion that drove the narrative and hopefully some nice, juicy bits of word spaghetti will have stuck to the wall. After I’ve gone over it a couple of times, I’ll reluctantly hand it over to a real editor. Alas, I have never had an editor tell me with tears streaming down their cheeks that there is nothing they can do to improve upon my genius. As usual, they will fix my word-mangling feckery— little quirks like playing fast and loose with grammar rules and spelling a character’s name fourteen different ways.
Editing funsies aside, something I found more amusing (YMMV), is that all the ‘great ideas’ that have been auditioning, nay, clamouring to be the NEXT BIG THING have stfu in the last few days. It’s a proper tumbleweed rodeo in the brain-meat bullshit factory. I’m not sure I like it; it’s all dark and echoey.
So, there you go. Thanks for sticking around and watch this space for updates about pre-orders and all that other book related stuff. I’m off for a curry and a pint.