Three nights ago, I announced joyously to my children, "I'm done!"
Then I retreated to my room and spent the next 24 hours in a state of almost perpetual tears.
No one was dead, and I hadn't suffered a mental breakdown.
I had merely finished a project -- a book series -- that had consumed three and a half years of my life.
Every little piece of me that could think, move or laugh was inside those books; living and breathing, and now marching forward with an independent life.
And now it was over.
I was free.
My job was done.
So why do I feel like a bare, empty husk just walking away?
- - - -
I am in the middle of two other book series, possibly bigger and better than the first. But allow me to grieve the passing of a milestone in my life that I will never be able to re-live or experience again.
Then I retreated to my room and spent the next 24 hours in a state of almost perpetual tears.
No one was dead, and I hadn't suffered a mental breakdown.
I had merely finished a project -- a book series -- that had consumed three and a half years of my life.
Every little piece of me that could think, move or laugh was inside those books; living and breathing, and now marching forward with an independent life.
And now it was over.
I was free.
My job was done.
So why do I feel like a bare, empty husk just walking away?
- - - -
I am in the middle of two other book series, possibly bigger and better than the first. But allow me to grieve the passing of a milestone in my life that I will never be able to re-live or experience again.
