It is done. The novel, all three volumes of it, has been sent to my publisher, Saraband, who has first refusal on publishing it.
It is an odd anti-climax to stop editing and declare it as complete as I can make it. No doubt if Saraband wants to publish it then there will be editorial changes to make, but for now, it is no longer on my desk.
What else to write? Small things. Tiny plays. Poems. Sketches of other ideas I have been waiting to toy with. Letters, perhaps. Short blog posts, like this one.