Post Deadline Funk

For the last several months the deadline at work was a burden, a seeming impossibility, a pain in the derriere. And now that we've met it soundly, there is the lull, the anticlimax, and slight depression that follows making a tremendous effort. I've read about writers who become very depressed after completing a novel (or other type of book)because their days suddenly lack definition. They aren't sure who they are without this thing to which all their waking moments must be devoted.

Since last Wednesday I've kept myself busy by tying up loose ends...little assigments that had had to wait for the last 2 or 3 months; I've prepared for a presentation I have to give at next Tuesday morning's team meeting and I've started looking at the next component of materials to be edited, but something is missing.

The glorious frenzy; having something about which to complain; the feeling of satisfaction when I leave the office every day...knowing I practically killed myself to make something happen.

Honestly, it's addictive.