Finis – the end of the story

I didn’t know I’d feel so bereft. Now I’ve done the first run edits on fiction book3, the last in the trilogy, I’ve finished my heroine’s  story. No, really finished. After the relief of completing the red-pen exercise, sadness crept up on me and now has me in its grip.

I’ve lived with my heroine for two and a half years, written over 300,000 words about her, sweated hours over her adventures, her troubles, her victories, her fears, her doubts, her joy. It’s like I’ve lost a dear friend, a small death.

Now I have to pick myself up, stop wimping and get on with the next book.  It’s a spin-off, the story of one of the secondary characters. Once I have my 30-line outline and set my brain to thinking while I sort the airing cupboard, wash up or dust the furniture, I’ll be off. We will glimpse my heroine, but only as a small child. Or perhaps I’ll sneak her in somewhere else…

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