I have the weirdest feeling today. I think I just may have finished the first draft of a novel I have been working on for months and months. Now, it's not anywhere near finished. Never have I experienced a piece of writing in more need of revision.....not that it's bad or anything. I think it will be good. Eventually. It just isn't tight.....and I want it to be.
But what was strange was that as I was writing, I realized that there was nothing more to write. I hadn't intended to end things when I did....but then it just seemed kind of foolish to go on.
It's not a tidy ending, though, nor particularly satisfying. Again, revision is quite the necessity.
But I find myself missing it. It has been my page-a-day buddy since late July. And I don't think I am ready to revise it yet (I should wait until I have uninterrupted time (as if), maybe in a few weeks) and yet I am also not quite willing to dive into another. What to do?
Perhaps I just need to finish up a few picture book manuscripts in the mean time, until I am ready.
I don't know. It just feels weird.