So I finished the manuscript of my latest book tonight.
It has been languishing since September, when I stopped work on it because it did not feel "right". But it did not feel as not right as what I tried to type in November - it was not so much a painful experience as writing as it was I seemed to have reached a block.
But on Saturday I decided that it needed to be done. So I sat down and did it.
It took surprisingly little time - a little over two hours. The words that would not come for months suddenly flowed through my fingers like electricity.
In a way, I have to finish. I have other ideas that I want to move on to, but I find that I cannot move on to the next. It is as if the idea gets lodged in my head and it will not allow me to go forward unless I complete what I am working on. Not a bad habit, really - it just sometimes seems annoying at the time, when you are ready to move on and cannot (which, actually, is one of my biggest issues: not sticking with things long enough to truly succeed).
Just because I am finished does not mean that I am done, of course: there is still a lot of editing to be done (a great deal probably, since this essentially written in two different time frames) with the catching of spelling errors and rough words - and then the fun part of course: cover design.
But today I will be glad in the fact that finished is finished. I can still hold to - and finish - things I start.