The first draft of my second (and last) contracted book is complete.
This morning I am alone with that knowing, except for a purring lap cat and an entire cast of restless and dissatisfied characters in my head. They know, as do I, that their stories are not yet fully told.
For one thing, they belong in a trilogy, not a duo, and they know it. They know that I haven’t yet found the perfect dividing line between this book and the one still to be written, and we are all uneasy with the ending.
They also know things I don’t know. Yet. Undeveloped personality traits, dropped threads, incomplete interactions. Fix it, they are shouting at me. And I will. Really I will. But not today, or even tomorrow.
It is time now to let the story sit and simmer. Locked up together in my subconscious for a week or so, with no way onto the page, the cast of characters can intensify all of the things they want to say to me and to each other. Meanwhile, I’ll be taking a little break to deal with all of the reality that piled up while my head was engaged in creation.
On the other hand, that’s a lot of reality to take in all at once. Maybe I’ll just read a few good books.