But, the book is done and turned in. The ending will have to be tweaked. I finished the darn thing after a six day gruelfest that ended in 15 hours of nonstop writing on the last day, and sent it off to my editor at 1:30 a.m.. I was bleary eyed from exhaustion when I hit the send button. The last chapter, which I wrote in a caffeinated haze of delirium, sucks a big old green one and will have to be overhauled, but it’s done. For now. I plan to let it congeal for at least a week and then look at it with fresh, non-bloodshot eyes and revise the ending.
But, right now, I’m taking a break, reacquainting myself with family and friends. The muse is doing whatever a-muses her while my brain cools off. For the first time in months, I drift to sleep without plot worries and bits of dialogue nipping at me, and I wake up without my first thought being about the fripping, frapping, snog blasted WIP. I am even thinking of cleaning my dirty house and, perhaps, working up the energy to deforest the mini jungle of weeds that has sprung up in my front flowerbed. I’m not rushing into anything, mind you; don’t want to sprain something.
Friday night, I actually cooked a hot meal for my family and flopped on the couch. I drank a glass of hole-in-the-handle red wine—okay, TWO—and watched THE HOLIDAY, one of my favorite movies. It was wonderful. I finished the first book in the series A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, and have started on the second. I treated myself to a manicure. Next week, I’m lunching with friends and getting a haircut.
Somewhere in the back of my overcooked brain, I am mulling over ideas for the next book, the next series, the next whatever. But, right now, I am a woman of leisure.
And it is glorious.
What do you do to detox after a writing marathon?