May 9th, 2006

viking princess necklace

The Mark of the Sea Serpent

Done! Or at least rough drafted!

Oddly, the last sentence I wrote -- I write out of chronological order -- was "It's almost over."


It has been way too long since I finished a book. timprov was up to congratulate me.

Now I will collect kisses from the sleeping markgritter, give the sleeping missista a tummy rub, see about a walk with timprov, and figure out what we're going to do for a small celebration. Then I will take a writing break for a day or two, and then I will do a quick read-through, and then I will let first-readers at it.

And I will try to wait at least five seconds before starting to mull over what to write next, after I'm done with this pass of revisions on it and Sampo.

viking princess necklace

"You know what happens if I have to stop this car!"

"We all get ice cream! Yaaaaay!"*

So. I think misia has the right of it: I have written a book, so everybody should get ice cream if they want it. markgritter and I -- and probably not timprov, as he will probably be asleep -- will be at Sebastian Joe's for ice cream at 8:00 tonight. This is the Sebastian Joe's at 1007 Franklin Ave., not the one in Linden Hills. (If you've been to Sebastian Joe's with us after dinner at Rice Paper, this is not that one.) We are not offering to buy you ice cream, as I have no idea how many of you there are, but if you would like to eat ice cream with us to say, "Yay book!" or even just, "Hi," I would enjoy that.

Also, I'm not assuming that anyone at all is free at 8:00, so if you don't see that anyone else has said they're coming, please say you are. I mean, if it's true.

Please call my cell if you are lost or want to see if we're still there. If you don't have my cell number, e-mail for it, please.

Also, there is a room which is not where the cases of ice cream are. This is probably where we will go. So if you walk in and don't see us, don't panic.

Ice cream, Sebastian Joe's, 1007 Franklin, 8:00. Okay? Okay.


*Old family story. My mom's best friend when she was 13 was a girl who had older brothers ages 15, 17, and 19. The best friend's parents figured one more kid was not that big a deal, so Mom was invited along on their family lake vacation. And the teenagers were getting rowdy, like ya do, and the father attempted to put on the authoritarian persona considered appropriate to the period (though vastly inappropriate to him personally). "You know what happens if I have to stop this car!" he thundered. For a moment, silence reigned, and then the boys chorused, "We all get ice cream! Yaaaaay!"

My mom used this as a signal that she didn't want to play the heavy but really did need me to settle down. Even when we weren't in the car. But we often did all get ice cream, so it worked out.
dead vikings


I had a large, good lunch with timprov and a small, good supper with markgritter, followed by ice cream with a few usual suspects. I was pleased: you can't do things at the last minute and expect everyone in your social universe to show up, but it was nice to have something to celebrate on the day I finished the book.

Every time I finish a book, I have a brief, hard emotional low; today was no exception. I mention this not because I'm seeking sympathy but because if it happens to you or someone you love, it's not just you/them, and it's not necessarily due to anything someone should have done differently. I think I'm through it and ready to enjoy my day off tomorrow. I hope so.

I am very good at putting my head down and working. I am not so good at doing things for fun and to reward myself and just to have a break. I default to practicalities, when I'm dealing with myself. This is not a good thing. It is a trait I need to fight. I need to fight it, however, not as A Project, because that defeats the purpose.

So tomorrow I'm not working on the book, but if something occurs to me, I will put it on a notecard and walk away from it. I will think about what I want to do rather than what I need to do or what I want to avoid doing. I think this sounds remarkably like a plan; we'll see if it survives contact with reality.