You know how when you're stuck in a dream, doesn't even have to be a particularly bad one, and things are so foggy that you're really not 100% sure what is going on? Some things are so random, and you find yourself asking why your daughter has decided today is the day to dance in the crawl space of your house, because two plus triangle equals green, and by the way, you only have sons. Make sense?
And there you have editing.
I love, loved, LOVED writing the first draft. Every moment felt like magic as the story unfolded in a private back room of my own mind. Most everything I thought of seemed to just BELONG to this story. I was king of the world last March when I wrote the last word. I had a master piece.
But let's get real. I was flinging a smattering of words on the page that held no art, no fire. When I started editing, I realized that nothing I saw in my minds eye made it to the page, so I have basically had to write it - again. I hear this is called editing. Pretty sure this is torture.
I'm so grateful to my betareaders...because if it wasn't for their encouraging words, I'm not sure how I would have made it through this without becoming so dejected I finally gave up. I am, as of today, half way through a thorough edit. My own self imposed dead line looms in 9 short days, where I will have contracted with a professional editor to tear it apart again.
It's been a painful fight. I've never rejected so much of myself so categorically, without remorse, only to reinvent new parts of me, again and again.
Still...I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere. Could there finally be a light at the end of the tunnel?
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