Finally finished typing up the second novel. I have given it a tentative title but it will change as I don’t like it.
I feel – drained! With the first novel I was euphoric but this one is so emotional that I need to sit down. I cried as I wrote it, cried as I typed it and now I have to have a break from it.
Having said that, i think I enjoyed writing it more than the first one. It wasn’t easier, the characters weren’t more loveable, there is no one thing I could put my finger on and say ‘that’s why’. A bit like choosing a plant. You don’t necessarily know why you pick up one perfect Gerbera over another, but there is something that just feels right.
Now, I’m off to watch umpteen episodes of Mentalist and House. I’ve just emerged from one emotional rocking boat to drown myself in another. But at least I didn’t live with those characters.