I'm not even going to acknowledge how long it's been. But I'd like to saythis: Holy shit, I finished!

The first draft, that is. Of the first book. Is it any good? How many of those seventy-two thousand, six hundred and twenty-two words are worth keeping and how many are going to get cut when it comes to editing? Don't know yet, considering I haven't read the bloody thing myself.

And here's the amazing thing about it. I who would be crowned king of procrastination if I got my suit cleaned in time to show up for the coronation, have managed to not only set myself a goal, but beat it by a week. That's pretty good going considering I once needed a girlfriend to print out and turn in a final for me because I kept putting it off until I had to leave town for christmas break one year. So now I almost feel like I have this week off.

Truth be told, I could probably have finished with even more time to spare, and the fact that I didn't has very little to do with my procrastinatory habits. We've had an interesting few weeks at work that basically resulted in working longer hours than any of us had done since install/creation. That, and working days instead of nights for our annual two week dark managed to fill up time prety successfully. That last blog I wrote about being busy? Wrote that before things actually did get busy, what with Snow White and the basement water and the family visiting.

But it feels good. Typed the last word around 230am last night, and lay in bed, marginally stunned. I mean, who the fuck am I to decide I should do something like this? And then actually to do it? It's actually quite an empowering feeling, sitting there looking at the document word count, and realizing that you've actually done what you set out to do. I got up this morning and went to FedEx Kincos, and had it printed out. I keep telling myself that it's to edit it, and it truly is, but as I'm not going to start editing for a week or two, give myself a bit of a break from Gower and Brokes et al, I didn't have to get it printed out this morning. But hey, I just got paid, and there's something about looking at 361 pages bound and sitting on the coffee table, it makes the word count somehow more tangible. 72,622 seems like a shit-tonne of words, but looking at it printed out on 8.5"x11", bound (ironically, the same way my too-thoughtful girlfriend from all those years ago had my paper bound before she gave it in for me), and ready to be picked apart, as well as the weight lugging the bloody thing around to show off, that means more to me.

So draft one of book one is done. And with the week off I feel like I have, what do I do? Start work on the Aladdin script for next year's panto, start work on book two, continue with a storyline for a project Steve Mack and I are working on together, and general dabbling with other things that have really been pushed aside the past couple of months. I'm looking forward to it.