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
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.