Yes, yes -- finished the novel last night. Huzzah and trumpet's blat. Sure, it's only a first draft, but that's the hard part. Revision is a puzzle with parameters set; one needs only patience. The first draft requires using both hands to dig in the grey matter, squish the stuff through your fingers, poke around for the right words and then hope it all settles back to normalcy after that rummaging (although at this point, I'm not sure I could define that).
After the long haul of the novel, I may concentrate on shorter works for a bit. Yes, there are a bunch crowding the hopper, champing the bit, etc. There are always more tales to be written, always ideas knocking at the forehead wanting out. But it's worth taking a moment to enjoy the rare feeling of satisfaction, not with the work itself (never that) but with completing the milestone. That sense of accomplishment doesn't last long -- it quickly gives way to realising that the end was rushed and to recalling an important detail neglected or character insufficiently rounded -- but I want to grasp hold of that chimera before it evaporates.
And yes, time for some new ink -- more on that later.
With luck (and the grace of Fay), the Crispinus clan return tonight and I will relinquish this sanctuary, grateful for its welcoming solitude.