It’s so late, but I’m on my last couple of scenes for this first draft and can’t stop. It’s strange. I’ve spent months working up to this point, and now that it’s here, I feel so anxious.
I guess it’s because once the first draft is done, the editing process begins. It means I can no longer dismiss the things that are wrong with my plot and prose. I have to confront them, fix them, instead of saying, “Oh, I’ll deal with it later.”
While I don’t advocate drinking on the job, I’ve had a dram of single malt liquid courage tonight. It’s helping. Another thousand words to go. Hopefully the final thousand. Wish me luck!