It is always with mixed feelings I finish a book I have been working on for years. Although the entire time I am writing I am eager to finish, when I do I feel nearly bereft. I wander around my rooms for days and mope in the yard. I miss the world I have inhabited for a long stretch of time and I miss the friends my characters have become. And while I am not happy with time on my hands, I am reluctant to begin writing a new story. And yet I miss not just the storyline and the characters but the WORK.
A few days ago when I announced Her Widow finished, I got out my paints and I fell in love again creating perspective on a flat surface and breathing in the smell of oil paint. My rooms now smell like an artist’s studio and on my desktop in place of a stack of white sheets of paper is a 12″ X 9″ gesso board.