I have been quietly celebrating the completion of the first draft of my book.
Giving birth to just shy of 80,000 words is an emotional experience. I have laughed and cried my way through it. The mental stretch marks will fade, eventually. An undisclosed amount of digestive biscuits have been consumed during the process, dunked in copious cups of coffee, as well as more than just the odd glass of wine.
But I have done it and I am proud of myself.
The reality is that this is the point where I need to start working my butt off. Re-writing and editing. A book isn’t written, it is rewritten.
Euphoria be gone! It’s time to sober up …