It Begins with The End
October 8th, 2006 | Published in Writing
The satisfaction I get from finishing a project is like nothing else. And the bigger the project, the greater the charge of energy. Today, I finished the third draft of my novel, just about a month short of a year from the day I started it, and I thought I’d share the experience.
It begins with the little punctuationmark at the end of the last word in the last sentence on the last page. There it is. There is no more. I sit there, feeling a little empty, sort of the same way you feel as the rollercoaster you were just riding comes to a stop. A mix between relief, happiness and wanting more. And knowing that if you actually had more, you might throw up. A few minutes pass, and I’m telling myself that it’s really over. Working myself into euphoria, but still trying to keep a lid on it (since I’m writing on my book in a coffee shop, and I don’t really want to scare the old lady at the table next to mine). I finally seek out my barista, whom I know well enough that I can afford this momentary lapse of self control. And I rant about what a tremendous task, I have just performed. Somehow the ‘congratulations’ I get in return does not do much for me.
So, I pack my stuff up and head home. Time to grab the better half and take her out on the town. It is Saturday after all, and who cares if I can actually afford it. If my bank complains later, I’ll tell them I just finished a book and that they can bite it (not the actual book though). But things don’t always go as planned. I return home to find aforementioned better half half-way in a migraine-induced coma. Nothing you can do about that. I offer my sympathies and hang around for a while. She is sleeping. The room is shrinking around me, and the world outside is calling me to come out and play. So I leave my better half behind and head out without it.
I go to a lounge, where I can sit under colored lights and sip Stoli on the rocks while I write page after page of self-praise in a journal no one will ever read. I’m sure, I look very Bohemian. Still, this is not enough. I order food and imported beer and educate the bartender about how a cheap domestic brand actually stole its name from this one. The American copy is barely deserving the name ‘beer’ in comparison. Talking about this makes me feel smart and stuff, but it’s not really the kind of celebrating I had had in mind.
I need company. So, I seek out a friend of mine, who happens to be working the night shift at the same coffee shop I left earlier. We talk. I get more congratulations. Some cops come in and start swapping stories from the street. I eavesdrop and enjoy myself doing it. This works! However, the cops have a job to do and so does my friend, and I am still much too energized to just sit around. Coffee is not helping either.
So there I am. The better half is back in business now, but it’s too late to go anywhere. Something tells me, I will be staying up late tonight. Seeing that as I am writing this it’s already 3 am here, late may actually be an understatement. No doubt this was one of the bigger one-man projects I have completed. And yes, there will probably be more editing to do, if and when I get it sold, but for now, I am just happy, that I made it through three drafts without losing faith in what I was doing.
