The continuing saga of a writing residency in the mountains. The writer accomplishes her task.
I finished writing the novel last night. I wrote steadily through the day, and stopped for dinner, and came back to the room and wrote a blog post. Then I went back to work, and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.
I finished around eleven. I thought there would be dancing and singing in the studio when I finished – I was sure of it. But when I actually did finish, I just sat back and looked at what I had done. But there was no dancing. I just sat there, feeling quietly satisfied.
It’s taken me almost two years to finish writing this book. The idea for it started even before that. And here I was, sitting in my little cabin in the woods, with a finished novel in front of me. It was glorious. It was scary to think that it was finished, and it was wonderful.
So there was no dancing. No singing. I may have cried a little bit. But mostly I just sat and looked at my finished book, and then I typed two more words: ‘the end.’
Breakfast: eggs, bacon, grapefruit, English muffin, juice and coffee
Lunch: manicotti, lemonade, custard, and coffee
Dinner: lamb rubbed with thyme, rice, cauliflower, carrots, and brocciflower, croissant and chocolate chip pudding, cranberry and club soda.