I finished writing the first draft of the fourth book in my Gift Legacy series last week. The process didn’t end with a thunder clap and popped cork, like I’d hoped. More like a wet splat with cold tea.
Why? I have no idea, but it did make me think about how I’d felt when I finished writing the other three books.
The first one was a shock. I actually Googled whether or not to type “the end” or let it be assumed. I remember sitting there with a grin on my face for ten minutes before I told the cave master. The second one snuck up on me, coming sooner than I anticipated, and pulled me along in its wake. The third…ah, the third. I loved the third one. Saw it coming a mile away and enjoyed every last second of writing it, and then I celebrated full out with a lovely bottle of Amarone. It was the end of the trilogy, after all, no small feat.
But this fourth book of the trilogy (yes, I know…arithmetic isn’t my strong suit) has been a marathon right from the start. I’m not sure why. I had a rough outline, so I knew where it began and I had a handful of the in between scenes. I also knew where it ended, but still, it was a tough slog getting it out.
That could be why typing “the end” on this one left me out of sorts. For a day or two afterward, I felt bluesy and out of sinc, and ever since, I’ve been bumping around the house in a daze I’m only now coming out of.
I celebrated the accomplishment a few nights later with my better half and a dirty martini, straight up, three olives, half vodka, half gin. I’m happy to report, though it may have been late and low-key, it was a pretty good ending!
This was my second reading at the McKellar Library, and once again, Maxine and Joan did a tremendous job of hosting the event. Not only was my reading announced on the Township’s roadside billboard, but they also advertised it in the local paper and even announced it on 103.3, Moose FM.
The wedding came off with only the one (expected) hitch. The bride was stunning, her groom handsome. Vows were spoken, cake was eaten, toasts were made, but it was the first time I’d seen a drone taking photographs.
When we were kids, we’d see maybe one boat go by each day, and when it did, it was an event. It didn’t matter that the boats were almost always canoes or small aluminum fishing boats. We’d run to the shore to see who it was and shout out, “Having any luck?” Sometimes they’d hold up their catch and we’d wave. Because of the falls, the river’s a dead end, so the boaters would all have to come back our way. We’d wave again and call out “Good luck,” and they’d disappear around the bend. Today, over the course of a day, a dozen pontoon boats or PWCs might motor past.
