But not depressed. Just tired. Sort of a twilight feeling.
I’m working on the last chapter of The Spanish Bride, an action/historical mystery/thriller/etc set in the uncrowded days of 1780s St. Louis. This is about the fifth draft now and I think it’s ready. Just one more chapter.
This is always a dangerous point in the process. I see that finish line and I get anxious, I want it to be done, but the last stretch of a novel is where all the promise is supposed to pay off, so you shouldn’t hurry it up.
It will be fine. After I finish this draft, Donna gets to read it and then I must go back and fix the things she indicates need fixing.
But I am tired. I’ve been constantly redrafting a novel—this one and Orleans—since March. I need a break. A couple weeks to catch up on some other things. I have a guest blog to write, things around the house to tend to, more photographs to finish, friends to catch up with.
The image above was taken the night of the Fourth of July. A pall of smoke filled the neighborhood as if some battle had been fought (which ritualistically it had). I’ve manipulated it a bit to make it a little stranger.
I’m going to go feed the dog and watch some tv now.
