Itchy Fingers

I'm still buzzed over finishing book II. I find myself drumming my fingers, thinking about chapter 1 of book 1 which needs a total overhaul rewrite. On my lunch hour at work I've been doing a chapter by chapter synopsis, and peppered throughout are many, many notes to myself in red. They didn't bum me out, those notes. They seemed to be shining little bits of things I already knew, and much of it was just tying up to things that happened later already.

I am surprised. I was looking forward to the generous days off I gave myself, including one entire day off on Wednesday, where I didn't even have to go to my day job. I spent the whole day thinking about writing. First, I pulled out some notebooks I keep for my "novel ideas" (thank you for not laughing.) First: Endways of the Gods. A huge, HUGE idea that made me quiver in my fairy boots. I'm not quivering too much anymore. I think I can tackle it. After reading the notes, a scene come dancing out of the aether, and I banged it out on the Neo (little word processing device - Thank you Angie!) Then I had another idea show up while I was trying to enjoy Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time. I didn't know what this idea is, so I wrote up some notes. I still don't know if there's a real story there, or is it just another orphan world/bit of magic that never finds a plot.

I've written a total of four novels now, and it was GREAT to finish this one. It was AWESOME! Now I only have one more leg of the story to write. The funny thing is that finishing the novel didn't make me feel any different. Wednesday did. On Wednesday, my "day off", I suddenly felt like a writer.