Two days ago I announced here, that I had at last completed the last revised revision of the revision of Low Life Games. 

(skip this paragraph if you like)  Yesterday I sent a splellchecked MSWord file of it to my editor - that is the novelist who, over the last two years (?) has been reading the different drafts, giving encouragement and suggestions.  Of course, she could suggest further changes this time round, but I'm pretty confident there will be a need for very few.  Her main job is what would be done by a publisher's script editor - checking for literals (eg 'right' for 'write') incosistancies (his brown eyes were blue in Chapter 1) and punctuation  (she's even more hostile to exclamation marks than I am).

Anyway - I am finding it hard to believe I have finished.  In fact, so far impossible.  I've been at it so long - seven years, with many, many traumatic upheavels and interuptions, decisions to abandon etc, etc - that saying "I've almost finished" to myself and others has been as addictive as my now abandoned dope smoking, or coffee which I yet to abandon.

What will I do wih my life now?

Naturally, I have dozens of ideas - and dozens of chores on hold, too.  But, at another, deeper, level, I haven't a clue waht i will do.

As most of you regular readers know I'm self publshing (details will appear here) but just supposing Low Life Games is a success?  Could I cope?  I have spent so long imagining myself as a might have been.