Firstly: I hope everyone had a wonderful Memorial Day.(:
Secondly: from the title of this post, you might assume that I have just finished something very important. Something huge. Something like a manuscript, maybe.
Well, I'm sad to inform you that
YOU'RE POSITIVELY, ABSOLUTELY RIGHT.
On May 27th, 2012, I finished my first draft of a long-worked on novel. And I mean long. The story isn't that big, only slightly more than 78K words, but it took me over three years to complete. I confess that I didn't spend every moment of free time on the novel. There were probably months at a time where I didn't write at all. (This is the only story that I've worked on in the past couple of years, mind you.) However, it's a story that's, in a way, grown up with me and that I've come to love. So I'm both happy and heartbroken to be finished writing it.
I'm happy because, well, I finished a novel!
I'm heartbroken because it's over. Kind of feels like my best friend just died. Well, okay, not died. I still have to revise/rewrite/go crazy in a month or so. So it's more like my best friend has been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer.
ANYway, good news! I get to start planning my novel for Camp NaNoWriMo!
Unfortunately, with every good news, there is bad news.
Camp starts in, what, two days? All I have so far is an idea, a setting, and my main characters. Oh, and three scenes. Three. What am I going to do with that? Every time I try to ask my characters for help, they grow silent and cross their arms. They have secrets. They're hiding something, and I'm going to find out what it is. I just don't know if I'll figure it out in two days.
So...I'm going to go rent a couple of movies, buy a new book, go to the beach, go on a couple of walks, and maybe coax them into spilling.
I am really excited about this new story, though. It's...refreshing to finally work on something new.
Okay, so I know you don't really care about all I've just said, so I'll get down to the point of this post:
When you finish something, be it writing a novel, graduating from school, running a marathon, or killing your best friend, don't pause and dwell on it. Walk outside, take a breath of sweet, sweet air, and start again. Move on. Life keeps going, so you must keep writing. Or killing. (Serial killers: please don't use me as a reference. I'm not being serious. It's just an over-used metaphor. Please get some help with your blood lust.)