Tuesday, October 2, 2012


It's not a word.  But I feel like it should be.  I've spent the past week doing the polishing edits on the Tales manuscript and I have to say:  I am completely, utterly, and almost unbearably sick of my own writing.

I've read it before from other authors, that re-writing, and re-writing, and re-writing, gets to be very tiring, tedious, and exhausting.  But it has to be done.

And the changes I've made are great ones.  I think.

It's always hard to cut words that just aren't working.  Or scenes.  Or chapters  (thankfully chapters mostly happen earlier).  But it is easier to think of making your novel or story better.  Focus on that.  Even though I know exactly what the page says without looking at it, I force myself to open my eyes, because eventually I will see something I haven't seen, and what I do see will be something I can fix to make my book stronger - better.  So I will keep working away at it.  Typo after typo.  Bad sentence after bad sentence.  Fallen brick after fallen brick.  And one day, hopefully, it will be published, on the the shelves, and never get another polish again.

This coming weekend is Thanksgiving, and I'm going to be done by then, because if there is one thing I dislike, it's working on the holidays.  Especially one with pumpkin pie...

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

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