So it's done. The novel. The damage: 740 pages. Of course it's not 'done' in any real sense of the word; in fact, this is really just the beginning, but there are stages to the lives of books as there are our own, and one stage is now complete. It's a strange feeling to step back and look at something years in the making, years of thought and possibility and wonder funneled down through six months' solid work into this thing that only resembles the original idea in spirit. And it's strange to know that it will be years more yet before it is truly complete.
Did I celebrate? Did I dance a jig? Nah. I went out into the wet and cold to feed the dog. I'll have to do something though, even if it's just pouring myself a glass of Guiness. Now I'll give her a rest for a while, give my fingers a rest, and then sometime soon get cracking on a short story idea.
Oh, and go see this movie coming out next week.