So, I guess take that Pee Wee Herman. I don't know why I used that quote. It's not like I've recently watched Big Adventure or anything. I did just recently watch The Lost Boys, but I couldn't make "Death By Stereo" work in any sort of context.
Back on track, ANTIGODDESS 2 is in the can. And by that I mean, first draft done. Now it'll sit for awhile and I'll tackle all the things about it that I know already need to be fixed. Smoothed. Rewritten entirely. This makes me think of lots of things, like alcohol, and video game-type rewards. But mostly it makes me think about the act of finishing a book.
Finishing a book. And not reading one. But writing one. As National Novel Writing Month hits its stride, I imagine soon a lot of people will be experiencing this particular phenomenon. And it is a phenomenon. A big, huge, stinking, crazy, important deal. But it's also very solitary. For a lot of us anyway. Even if a novel ends with an explosion, with a pile of bloody bodies, all it ends with in this world is that last keystroke. That last quiet mouse click. No ticker tape parade. No alarms sound. And then, in the silence, that thing you've been working with so closely, that you've been living and breathing and obsessing for such an intense period of time, is over.
It's weird, is all I'm saying. And I hope it always stays that weird. Although I do wish I was back in London this year, as today is Guy Fawkes Day, and instead of burying myself in pasta like I'm going to in about thirty minutes, I could walk up to Alexandra Palace with a bottle of bubbly and pretend all those splendiferous fireworks were for me.
Good luck to all in their NaNo and non-NaNo endeavors. Celebrate the completion of every work well. But don't forget to feel the weird. The weird is important too.
Should be seeing some cover art for ANTIGODDESS 1 soon. Very excited. There's a fun little story about more "lady problems" on the cover. And, Anna Dressed in Blood is releasing next week in Germany. Neat.
Parting piece of random: the resurgence of Furby popularity has given me horrifying flashbacks of Bret Easton Ellis' LUNAR PARK. If you've read this fantastic piece of fiction, you know why. If you haven't, well, what the heck?