The last 8 weeks have been all about editing. I feel like I have explored my book in infinite detail, and at the same time I cannot escape the fear that I have still not done enough.
After all that intensive, reading, checking, changing, adding, and deleting of something I have looked at already many times, it has gone. It is now back with my editor, and I feel strangely at a loss, like something is missing.
Now I have a gap or about another 8 weeks, but after all that editing I am worried that I have forgotten how to write!
I think it is going to take a little while to find the flow of writing again. I drafted book two, and have a planned to some extent book 3. So, it’s time to get back into writing, get back into the detailed planning of the final book, and start tapping away.
I have realized many things going through this process, but one of them in particular is how much I love to just write. To some extent I would like to stop there at the draft, and not bother with all this polish and perfection. But I also have a bit of a love-hate thing going on with editing. It think of it a bit like weeding the garden. You switch the one part of the brain off and hack, cut, chop and pull the rest of it about until – voila – you have a beautifully manicured garden. Ok, maybe not quite a manicured garden yet, perhaps more of an emerging ramble of charm that you can see the potential in.
I have enjoyed seeing the book shift from that waddling toddler into a slightly more robust child. I am making my way slowly, but I know that my book is growing up.
I am a terribly impatient person, and I am containing this as best I can.
For the next 8 weeks it is time to rest book one, and then I can come back to it with fresh eyes and get ready for the exciting next step.