Yesterday–Friday the 13th–I crossed the finish line, slid into home plate, delivered the secret message to the troops–unfortunately the cliches keep coming.  I don’t know if anyone noticed, but I stopped writing posts, kept my FB appearances to a minimum, attached the electroencephalograph sensors to my head, and got to the end of the book.  (Throw confetti here.)

Yes, I have to wander backward to fix some bits here and there–set up a couple of plot elements that don’t show up until the middle, don’t you know–but I got to the last page.  I got to type THE END at the bottom, and sit here and think, “Is that all there is?”  (It’s been a long time since I finished a book by bursting into tears and calling all my friends.)  But I did Tweet & put a brief mention on FB.  Some attention must be paid.

It wasn’t till later that I poured a glass of wine and toasted the gods of writing.  And felt thankful for being a writer instead of a wealthy financier.  (I’m stupid that way.) Today I’m re-potting some plants and enjoying the warmth ahead of the storm headed our way.  I won’t look at the last chapter until Monday.  I’ll start putting in the set-ups and checking for mistakes. If the writing gods are merciful, it will be a quick run-through.  If they aren’t…I’ll jump off that bridge when I get there.