That's it, I've finally written those magic two words - The End - on part three, Legacy. It happened on Wednesday, quite by surprise really. I knew I was close, but didn't realise it was that close. Now that may seem strange to you, but it's the way it happens sometimes. The characters have done and said all they need to, the strands of the plots have all come together, the mysteries solved - there's nothing left but to say goodbye and move on.
It's a sad moment, although it is also a triumph. Ihave never written a trilogy before and it was a mammoth task and a very steep learning curve, but I've done it! It's over bar the shouting - ie, editing, mucking about and having it come back and forth from the publishers to tweak. I'm free for at least three days - then it's on to the next project. I have four lined up at the moment, and know which I'm going for. It's a bit like a kid outside the window of a sweet shop, mouthwatering, heart pounding, already tasting the delicious wares that are displayed. This of course wears off when I'm in the middle of the book and I've hit a snag, got a block, too much going on to concentrate and huge doubts as to my ability to carry it off. But this is where the characters come in. They bully me and chide me and shove me back into my chair so their stories can be finished - I've left them hanging you see, and they don't like it - and neither do I. It's unfinished business. But those characters become very real as I write my stories, and when it is time to leave them behind and meet new friends, it is hard to forget them.
I can hear you sniggering and thinking she's off her rocker, and I fully accept that I'm probably not at all normal. It's a bit like being a schitsophrenic - is that how you spell it? I don't know, but I can't be bothered to reach for the dictionary - I'm off on holiday from writing - anyway, as I was saying, I have a lot of characters racing about in my head, and I know them all intimately, so that probably does make for a split personality!!!!!
So I've finished Legacy, it's sitting here in a box on my desk, waiting for that moment when I read it through and start cutting it down. My editor swears I'm the cause of her hernia, for my manuscripts are always hefty.
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I have a new cat. Well, she's not new, she's six, but she's a rescue tabby and utterly gorgeous, and will sit on my lap and purr, and even try to put her own paw on my writing while I'm at the computer. Makes for some very strange wording, but hey, she needs to express herself, just as I do. More about her in another blog. For now, I have raised my glass in salute of Legacy and am planning to just mooch about, do a bit of housework - which him indoors hates - and plot the next project. Him indoors hates it when I'm not writing, I tidy up and get ratty when I have to pick up eight pairs of his shoes which he's left scattered about the house - and don't even start me on the laundry basket. Why can't men put things in it, instead of dropping them next to it? Same goes for the dishwasher - oh well, take a deep breath and just let life flow. The End.