As Chaucer wrote at the end of Troilus and Criseyde,
Go, little book, go, little myn tragedye,
Ther God thy makere yet, er that he dye,
So sende might to make in some comedye!
But little book, no making thou n'envie,
But subgit be to alle poesye;
And kiss the steppes, whereas thou seest pace
Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, Stace.
Or perhaps I should quote Byron's Don Juan, since it neatly references my favorite verse from Ecclesiastes,*
Go, little book, from this my solitude!
I cast thee on the waters – go thy ways!
And if, as I believe, thy vein be good,
The world will find thee after many days.
My goodness, I’m in exalted company tonight! But allow me the moment of celebration and anxiety all together. I just submitted Winter’s Dawn to the Suvudu novel contest, all 74,500 words of it. It is officially no longer a work in progress, it’s a finished work that might (certainly will) need editing.
The deadline is Friday the 18th and it’s already 5am on the East Coast, so I didn’t leave myself any too much time. But the book is out there and out of my hands. On to other tasks.
* Eccl 11:1 "Cast thy bread upon the waters for thou shalt find it after many days."