So I’m finished, done, finis, well the complete draft of my latest effort, ‘Shadows of the Morning Light, Shadows of the Evening Sun’ anyway. Give or take 70,000 words in four months, I’m fucking knackered.
I know it needs a lot more work but for the moment I don’t want to look at it, not sure I can.
What to do with it now is the next question. I’ll send it out into the world to see if it can find a home, maybe it will, or maybe it won’t and might end up chained in the attic like its older brother, who knows?
Either way, a night or two off is required. If anyone needs me I’ll be the one trying to scrape what remains of my brain back inside my skull
A Stain on Silence 
Well done Mister. How you do it I don’t know! Next step? Draft 2?
Trick is to just ignore everything, even your own voice telling you it’s rubbish, and plough on regardless.
. . . . Draft 2, no, we don’t need no stinking Draft 2!!
Don’t make me rewrite it, no, please don’t make me rewrite it, no, no, no, AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!
You must rewrite. Did I not tell you of the Ballad of Draft 15? But congratulations.