I did it! I finished my fourth novel today! I was excited and happy the entire time that I was working on the last chapter and epilogue. As soon as I typed in those final words though, and I realized that I was finished, my stomach plummeted to the ground.
I am so depressed. I’m smiling, I’m excited, but I’m also incredibly depressed. I miss my characters.
For all of you non-writers out there, you know that feeling you get when you finish reading a really good book, one that you wish wouldn’t end? It’s the exact same feeling, but a little worse. It’s how you feel when you finish reading the seventh Harry Potter book, and you realize that there isn’t another one to read next. Its terrible.
You get swept away into this lovely world, fill your mind with the hopes and dreams of these wonderful fictional characters, and then the story ends. Closed book. Its over.
I’m going to go cry now.
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[…] to writing though. The good news about this addiction of mine however, is that I’m not depressed about finishing my last book […]