Let it be noted, that as of yesterday at around 3:00am, the full first draft of the novel Soulless was dragged flailing and squealing into being. *Dramatic thunderclap*
I typed the words 'The End' with a flourish. Then I realised I hadn't savoured the feeling, so I backspaced and typed them again. With a spelling error. Then I did it again and forgot the full stop. The feeling had worn off a bit by that time. I was quite tired. So I saved a copy of it on every USB and external hard drive I own, just like any paranoid writer would, and went to sleep. I woke up at midday, and the fact still hadn't sunk in. Sure, I told everyone who would listen, but it was only after about 3:00pm that it really started to hit me. Every now and again, I would break out into this weird, wacky-waving-inflatable-flailing-arm-tube-man dance, with this enormous grin on my face. When people asked what the hell I'd just taken, I would squeal at them in a rather high pitch, "99,000 words!"
The exuberance I feel has toned down a little, but every time the thought crosses my mind now, I go:
Feeling: Tired, but awesome.
Listening to: It's way too late to be concentrating on music.
Eating: Again, way too late. But I did have a second dinner at Macca's. Was good.