In which I say I am done, although;

Are we really ever done? I have, for the first time, written a complete manuscript. I have to say that it's one of the best feelings I've had, writing wise, to write that final word. I walked into the office where my wife was sitting, and said, "Whatever."

She looked at me like I'd lost it, so I explained that that word is the last word in my book. (For now at least.)

A hour later I found myself starting from the beginning and already fixing a few things here and there. Some say to take a few months away from a completed work, but I can't. I just have to dive back into it and see what I can fix and where I can fix it, to make it better. It's like something was burning to get out of me, but now I need to eat it back up so I can spit it out and see if it tastes just as good as...


... I just grossed myself out.