Sometime around 2:00 on Wednesday morning I was standing with Hart in the hall outside the hotel press room when a glum-looking student canvasser grabbed his arm and asked, “What happened?” “What do you mean, ‘What happened?’” Gary snapped. “We won, godamnit! What did you expect?” The young volunteer stared at him, but before he could say anything Hart cut him off: “What are you standing around here for? Let’s go to New York. We have work to do.” The boy hesitated, then flashed a thin smile and darted into the press room, where the beer was flowing free and nobody was hung up on embarrassing questions like “What happened? – Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72
Right. First draft is down, for better or worse. A week later than I’d have liked, but who’s counting?
Now normally, I’d engage in a bit of negative self-deprecation or bemoan the quality or wryly comment on the long road left to travel. But no, this time I’m going to sit back, sip a strong coffee and give a small smile of content that I’ve finally got there.
There’s one major plot-related edit I need to make before I send it off to the people who have kindly agreed to look at it for me and after that comes the fascinating process of coldbloodedly making it a better novel. But for now… will just luxuriate in it all.