Finished

There's this great feeling when you write the final sentence in your novel.
I've done it maybe 40 times (because I've rewritten things). It's great. It's euphoric. It's amazing.
And then you read through the whole thing and do some editing, and you feel like it's really good enough. Perfect.
And that's when this sort of lost feeling settles in. It isn't like finishing reading a novel. It's sort of sad. Because you suddenly don't have anything to do. That's probably why I end up writing series so much.
Last night I did that. I finished it.
It's my favorite book I've ever written. And it isn't perfect yet, but I need  a break.
So. Here I am. Wanting to write something new. I want to craft. I want to think and create. But I'm sort of blocked. I think the energy the kids take from me is sapping my creativity.
Or maybe I watch too many TV shows now.
I'm just rambling. There is no point to this post. Read my previous one. It's better.