One of my favorite writer movies is Romancing the Stone. I'm sure you remember when Joan Wilder is sitting at her typewriter (!) and finishes her book? Well, she was sobbing. I'm bawling too right now.
Joie de Vivre is done. For now, at least.
When I finished the epilogue and skimmed it, the tears came. Only if you are a writer will you understand this, the feeling that it's wrapped up and over. The first draft only comes once, with its freshness of ideas and characters springing to life as the cursor skims across the computer screen.
Oui, Edouard found Josee, and together they fought off the gator who did not like the pirogue coming so close to him. I will miss them, in a strange way. Like I said, if you are a writer you will understand.
I will pay dearly in the morning. It's 1:00 a.m. here and I just shipped off chapter 9 to my critique partner in South Africa, where she's probably getting her brood off to school.
I already went to Christianbook.com, where Bayou Brides is listed already--no cover yet--and its release date of Sept. 1, 2006 is there for all to see. I'm picturing the cover in my head. A line of cypress trees, dripping with Spanish moss. A tiny bayou cabin underneath their canopy of green. A beautiful brown bayou flowing past.
So I'll turn in for now, and bask in this glow of the first draft, the draft from my heart. My editor hat will go on my head starting tomorrow, which isn't nearly as emotional but very necessary.
Thanks, Lord, for making me creative. You are my best reader and fairest critic. Merci.