So here we go again, less than a year after starting it, I’ve sent off my latest manuscript to a few agencies today. The typical things happened, like attaching a file that still contained an “xxx” where I had intended to fill in some character’s name, another character’s name misspelled in the synopsis, you know, all the kind of things you want to avoid to look like a complete moron who can’t even double-check his spelling.

But even worse, I feel like I’m sending off one of my kids on a bus for a school vacation. I know that it’ll do them good and that it’s the right choice, that it’ll do them good, and still… Or like you’re saying goodbye to a good friend and you don’t know whether you’ll see them again. That kind of nostalgic sad-happy feeling.

I can’t even say I’m elated at the thought of having finished the manuscript, because of course the odds that it’ll ever get into the next round are so infinitesimal. And although I told myself all the time that when I was finally done, I could open my mind to all the other ideas I wanted to write about… I’m just not ready yet. It’s like I’m mourning that old friend, still, and it doesn’t feel right to meet someone else right yet.

Anyway, it’s holiday time around here, so I’m glad I finished this off just before so I can leave with a sort of peace of mind, although that is overstated as I leave rather with a feeling of not having done well enough. But I guess that is part of the deal when you are multitasking and juggling too many jobs, it’s that you can’t do anything really perfectly well, unfortunately.

Does anyone else get that melancholic blues when finishing a novel?

 

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