I was making good progress on book number 6, writing about 2,000 words a day. On Thursday, August 2, after my class ended at 9:30 p.m. I decided it was time to pull an all-nighter. Well, not really an all-nighter. I stayed up til just past midnight to finish the book.
This was probably the most anti-climactic finishing of a book I’ve ever experienced. I think because I was chugging along at such a great pace and didn’t really have much more to write, maybe just a couple thousand words. There was no pot of coffee, I didn’t have to stay up and see the sun rise or anything… it just kind of happened.
That’s how I’ve felt about the last two stories I’ve written. They both came very easily. And now that they’re finished… I don’t know what to do with myself.
I don’t know about other writers, but when I go to bed at night, I’m lying in bed, and I’m picturing the scene I just wrote, or what comes next, and I’m trying to play it all out in my head like a movie… Not that I have a clear picture of who would “play” each character or anything like that. Instead, it’s more like I’m imagining the words I’m going to write.
That sounds strange, right? Instead of picturing the characters doing what I’m going to write about, I’m picturing what the words will look like on the page and how they’ll sound when they’re read.
I’m weird, right? It’s okay, you can tell me I’m weird.
Anyway, now that those books have been set aside for a little while, it’s crazy to go to bed and NOT have the mental keyboard in my head clacking away.
It’s also crazy to actually have time to do other stuff. I’ve got book number 5 to read over and edit, blogs to write, books to read for school next semester, and a zillion little around-the-house tasks on my to-do list.
But for now… I’m just going to do a little happy dance and enjoy the fact that, once again, I somehow managed to arrange 75,000 words into what I hope people with think is a great story.
And then I’m going to go do some laundry. The glamorous life of a writer.