So I finished my manuscript today (okay, last night, since I'm writing at night but posting in the morning). I spell-checked it and now I'm going to call it done. The only thing I have to do now is write a synopsis. Well, and a cover letter.
These moments in my life are anticlimactic. A little over a week ago, it was my Ph.D. defense. Six years of my life preparing for that moment and then bam, it was over in less than two hours (with a good result, of course). And here with this manuscript, well, I worked 30-60 minutes a day for over a year on this and now it's finished and ready to send off. No fireworks, no rewards, no celebration. Just a gnawing sense of emptiness, almost. (Where will I be without this project to work on?)
So what's next? Well, I'll send it to the first publisher on my list that accepts unagented manuscripts and then wait six months. In the meantime, I'll start working on volume two. (It's a little weird to think about that. I'll be writing about the same characters, and some new ones, but their first big adventure is OVER.)
Well, anyway, I'm glad I finished. I've started about a dozen novels, including this one a couple of times before, and I've even finished a first draft of one I wrote in the past, but I discarded it because it was crappy. But I've actually managed to stick with this one through seven rounds of editing. Maybe I'll be a writer one day yet...