I finally finished (as in totally finished) my novel. No, it's not a great American novel. It's just a love story. I have not sent this one for others to read. I seldom get feedback on my novels that are truly sincere if I get feedback at all. My best friend did tell me that one was "predictable" I re-read it later and agree; it now sits waiting for a re-write or the recycle bin. I'm not in the mood for it right now; it's not going anywhere soon. I may chop it into itty bitty pieces and feed it to y'all. ;-)
I like this one. Let the publisher tell me it's garbage or not. I need to figure out how to format it and do all the things you have to do before submission. I'm working on that. The worst part of it is waiting for them to let me know and it looks like it will be months. So I'll wait…
Anywho, it's left me feeling flat and let down. I loved most of my characters, didn't like one but then he's the one not to like. I'm going to miss them for a while until I find someone equally attractive (or hateful) to write about. I sit in front of my computer and the screen is blank and my mind says, "What?" and "Who?" and "What's going on?" The curser just blinks at me.
Don't worry, it will come to me. I know it will when I smell a certain smell or hear a certain song or see a picture that will bring images to mind and I will be busy once again. For tonight though I feel as bland as milk toast.