It is a most curious feeling to finish writing a book. In February 2005 when I completed "A Pillar of Impotence" I cried and then felt completely empty. I was convinced it was no good and would never be published. Of course I was wrong although it took an awfully long to get the paperback out to the public.
Fast forward my life 7 years and I have now completed "Charon's Ferry". Late this afternoon I wrote the final paragraph. I still have the epilogue to write and correct a couple of omissions but it has finally come to fruition. Once again I feel empty although there were no tears this time. I still think it is awful and dread the publisher rejecting it. There is much expectation after the response to the first book. But I know I can never match that. Time will tell if it is any good.
In the mean time I must content myself with watching West Ham-they appear on their way to Wembley-, slow roasting shoulder of pork (note to Dory, nothing fancy just seasoned with salt and pepper and put on a low heat for 4 hours), wondering if on such a dull day I should make Pimm's with what I bought this afternoon, and enjoy a better day than on Saturday in which my world is all in place. Back to the busy world of the university tomorrow.
I Heard a Voice.
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