Normally at home I wake restless with my mind on things I need to do. During the past several weeks, the novel has exacerbated that. This morning I woke unusually peaceful, with no anxiety about getting out of bed. I remembered that Danny will be here in a few hours, and I savoured that thought. It was bliss. I thought of a few things I want to do to get ready for his visit, but felt no pressure, only contentment.
It was like afterglow. Finishing the novel was a giant mind orgasm. I used self-imposed pressure to achieve a cherished goal, but it turned my mind to pulp.
My writing process needs some analysis. Fortunately I used Excel to record my work through the month.

I made remarkably steady progress through the month (that level spot represents the weekend when my daughters visited). The main reason for this consistency was the moral support of LJ friends and others who I told about the project. So I'm a sucker for attention. Rather than worry about the psychological causes and implications of that, I need to figure out how to make it work for me as a writer, and how to continue working when it isn't immediately available.
Another important point from my analysis is that I spent only 64 hours of concentrated time writing. If I only count the 22 days in which I worked, that averages out to three hours a day, which is easily manageable. If I gave myself a more civilized timeline of two or three months, I should be able to complete new novels on a regular basis.
I'm annoyed by the fact that I accomplished little else during the month of November. Many days I spend hours dancing around the work at hand, not getting down to it. This avoidance typifies my life.
But the most important thing is that completing this project represented an important step forward. I have been trying to write novels all my life. I finally finished one. This is wonderful.