Remember when I used to love editing? And I wanted to work as a proofreader and spend my life correcting things for other people? Yes. For OTHER PEOPLE.
My God. Inputting my edits is so painful. I keep thinking I've made a lot of progress and then I realize I really just set myself back a few hundred words because I had to take out some rambling crap that the other part of my brain wrote when I wasn't there.
Good for the humility though. I was starting to feel like some kind of novel-writing superhero, blurting out chapters at the speed of light, beating deadlines like a boss....now we get to the kryptonite. NOW I get to review every careless word that I chose under the influence of "I'll fix it later, just get it on the page".
Welcome to Later.
I started the day trying to figure out how I'm going to design the cover and whether or not I have everything I need for a photo shoot. Then I did my usual social media trolling and research on indie publishing (my favourites are Susan Kaye Quinn and James Altucher). Put the cat out on her harness in the backyard, made a cup of tea, settled in for the long haul.
Three hours later I've input changes to five chapters. That's not terrible. But I know it's only the first round.
More wine.
More.
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