Now that the rush to write a 50,000 word novel has come to an end and for the next two weeks the story of Megan and Nicolas has been put away, I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. Hours spent writing over the last month filled every waking moment. Now they are free to do as I wish. I longed for free time during the past month. Even imagined all I would do once the novel’s first draft was completed. Now that it is here, I just want to write.

Who knows what I will do, for the past thirty days Megan and Nicolas filled my every waking moment in my quest to write a novel in a month. My loved ones are happy to have me back among them. But I am changed. I am not the same person I was before the endeavor of writing a novel in a month. There is a sense of accomplishment that was not there before. More importantly the fact that I am a writer is secured in my personality. It is something I must do. It is an obsession, a hunger that must be fed.

It is true that when a writer finishes a novel they go into mourning as if losing a best friend. I am there. I miss Megan, Nicolas and the others. They were such a part of my life for the past month, that I feel their loss terribly.

The self-imposed recommended vacation from the novel is hard, though it has only been two days since I picked up the story. I find I want to go re-read it, and begin the editing and rewriting phase. I must overcome this urge, for in two weeks I will approach it all with a new perspective that will help in the editing process. For now what do I do?

I could start book two, but that wouldn’t be fair to book once since one the re-write and editing begins it will be time consuming. I could tell the many short stories that dance through my head every second of the day. Or I could begin the research on several articles I have thought of writing for years. Anything to get Megan and Nicolas off my mind. It is only two weeks I keep telling myself. Two weeks without visiting my old friends will not kill me. I must fight the urge to open their story and start polishing the work until it is ready for others to view.

With all this free time I could curl up on the couch and watch television until my mind goes numb, or even read a good book, but all I want to do is write. I need to write, I have to write, but what do I write for the next two weeks? Whatever it is, I wonder if it will fill the void left now that the first draft is done. In twelve months I can start that process all over again, which I no doubt will do. The fun of NaWriNoMo is addicting.

For now I am off to find something to writer chanting as I go. “Must writer, need to write, will writer!