That header looks so dismal. And today is such a happy day but, still, there we are.
Today is Creme’s One Year Anniversary. I had big plans for this week, BIG PLANS. I was going to do many, many exciting things- reminisce, write long, gigantic posts that no one would have any interest in reading, post a whole string of photos of Ewan McGregor because I can.
Tease Cones about how our most popular post is that joke one about unicorns that has TWENTY-SIX COMMENTS while our usual average is about, oh, 0-3.
The reason why I am at a loss is because I’ve finished my first novel and I now have no idea what to do with myself.
I wasn’t expecting this, honestly. It’s taken so long to write and so much out of me over the last few months that I was not anticipating how it would feel when I was done. I was not expecting that I would have to give it to people to read and wait to hear their opinions on it. I mean, I kind of knew it but I didn’t really know how it would feel- in short, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so uncertain, terrified and elated all at once. And it has been like this for TWO DAYS.
I’m usually a pretty focused person but the last two days have seen me wandering around, my head somewhere else completely. I pick something up, I forget why I needed it. I make meals that I forget to eat. I’m drinking wine out of the bottle before breakfast. I can’t make myself apply to jobs, I just can’t. I feel like applying to jobs automatically means I’ve given up hope, “the book is terrible. You need to find something else.” And while I know that is crazy, I still can’t make myself hit the Craigslist button. I can’t.
So, you’re going to have to bear with me as I deal with this. The best way I can describe it is that I gestated a baby for three years, gave birth to it on Monday night and immediately handed it over to three people who are each going to carefully evaluate my baby and let me know if I should keep it or hand it off to the nuns to raise. AND I WANT MY BABY BACK NOW. I want to recomb her hair and maybe find a different outfit, remind her to be on her best behavior and a dozen other changes that I forced myself to hold off on. I want to start all over. I want to be thirteen again and when it occurs to me, in a haze of books and paper and ballpoint pens, that I could do this, I could write stories MYSELF, I want to suddenly shake loose of the idea and decide to be a lawyer instead. I want to choose 401Ks and a pension plan, financial security and a husband named Bob, not this feeling, no, not this feeling- like I just stripped off all my clothes and I’m walking on a table in the sorority house while my “sisters” circle my problem areas and I cry (most horrifying Lifetime movie EVER).
And at the same time, I don’t want to do anything else.