Well, it’s gone, Infixion, sent off into the ether to my lovely agent. It’s taken eighteen months to write, when I’d planned for twelve. We did move house during that time, which played havoc with my writing time, but still, it seemed, at times, to be a never ending hard slog. Often, I wondered if it would ever be sorted. My beta-readers were invaluable, pointing out confusion (I knew what I meant, so assumed the reader would!), continuity problems (my bugbear), and plot holes (aaarghh!). Towards the end, I was waking at five am, and editing all day (with barely a break for tea) until bedtime (which got to be earlier and earlier). I’d dream about words, sentences. I still find that bizarre, and wonder if other writers do it. If not, eek!
So, I pressed that ‘send’ button. First reaction – relief. Second – elation. Third – what the hell do I do now? It’s as if my best friends, people I’ve spent twenty-four hours a day with, have gone away. Not only that, but the world I’ve been inhabiting for eighteen months has gone too.
I began plotting the next story, making notes, creating characters. Some are just names, some have sketchy identities, descriptions, but they’re strangers. I don’t know them. We’re awkward in each other’s company. It will be months, perhaps, before they come to life and inhabit my dreams.
In the meantime, I wait, trepidation increasing with every day that passes, to hear what my agent thinks.