Some of you may know my latest WIP is entitled Cruising Toward Love. Well...(brace yourself for some truly bad metaphors)...that ship has docked. Reached the end of its journey. Sailed into port (hence the picture). In other words, after 98,000 words, I finally typed The End.
But am I truly finished? Heck, no! I gave myself a moment of triumph - said moment being both quiet and solitary. Sure, I got a toast out of my friends later that night, but no one else really understands the feeling. The last two days I was on cruise control, writing furiously, wanting oh so badly to finish I couldn't type fast enough (and I'm at least a 95 word per minute girl). No hesitation, no internal wrangling, just plowing full speed ahead. And then...it was over. No matter how badly I wanted to linger in that world.
Within half an hour I'd sent out a call for beta readers. People who will tell me if it passes muster or flat out sucks. Then I began proofreading, since even spell check can't catch all the mistakes of my too fast typing. I did give myself the weekend off, but today the proofreading continues. And the honing of my query letter for it, as well as a blurb and a pitch. Honestly, I'm not going to bother putting myself through the pain and suffering of a synopsis until someone demands it. But I need to figure out which agents to query first.
If that isn't enough, the end is really a beginning. Because sure enough, the next book needs to make itself known....but that's for next week's post!