As of about ten minutes ago, and after just under two long…long…really long…years, the new novel is finished.
Yeah, it sucks, and yeah, it needs a ton of work, but the first draft is finally done.
I had the idea during the daily chemo back in December 2005. So I assumed the idea sucked because of chemo-brain. Then I did a big chunk of the writing during the thrice-weekly chemo in 2006. So I assumed the writing sucked because of chemo-brain.
But somehow, it doesn’t blow as badly as I thought it might. The first draft is ragged and unpaced, unfocused and chaotic, but it’s done.
Now what the hell do I do?