A Strange Day to Finish a First Draft

The scaffolders are racketing outside and I feel sick as a result of a scan, but my new novel - the one I wasn't going to write - is finished.  Or the first draft is, at any rate.  And it really is a first draft this time.  I haven't gone back once.  I've read none of it.  I've not agonised over a single sentence.  I've not researched a single thing.  I haven't looked at the "shape" of the novel or thought about structure or pacing or any of those things you're meant to think about as a writer.  I just wrote and wrote and wrote.....
.....and felt so unbelievable FREE!  I've never written like this before.  I've never felt this freedom.  You could say this is "real" writing but truly, I don't think I would have been able to do it if I hadn't already written twenty novels.  More probably.  Most of them lost and forgotten.  Let alone all the short stories......in other words, I have a LOT of experience in how to put one word on front of the other.  I'm sure this has helped.  Perhaps it was one of those occasions where, having learnt the rules, I could break them successfully.
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Now that it's done, the real work begins:

• I need to transfer it onto my computer.  That's a lot of typing.  And my writing is not the most legible.
• Then I will go through my list of notes and add all the missing scenes.
• Then I will do the research and get all the names right.  I also need to research the political scene, which is going to be interesting because I was quite unaware of what was going on at the time.
• Once everything is actually written, THEN I can start editing.

That's the bit I'm looking forward to.

Morning on Russell Square