Just finished the first draft of my new book after nightmare marathon session lasting until the wee hours of the morning. Jo don’t do late nights well.
Yesterday I sent it to two of my betas and printed it out for my husband to read.
I am NOT hovering over his shoulder as he turns the pages. I am NOT!
Anyway, there’s just something strange and wonderful about holding your manuscript, all nicely typed and printed on recycled paper (natch). It feels heavier than you expect. It feels lighter than you expect. It is not stained with blood or sweat or even tears.
For me at least, by the time I’ve reached the end of the very long, intense process that is the first draft, I am sort of disconnected from it.
I weigh the pages in my hand and I say “Hmmm, lookee here. A baby book.” And then my second thought might be, “Hey, I wrote that.” And my third might be, “Weird!”
But this could be the insomnia talking.
*they do have something to do with the WIP.