I’m on copy edit deadline (for Ashes, Ashes) at the moment.
This is the final pass before the text gets set, ready for printing.
My super editor is on the case. Also a copy editor and another editor.
(this is not a photo of them)
My manuscript (which I had previously done a word by word edit of my own on after editorial revisions, and prior to sending it back in to the publisher) bristles with many-colored balloons filled with sharp, astute commentary.
I can’t believe I missed so many duplicate words, sloppy phrases, and awkward descriptions.
But that’s what an editorial team (bless them) is for.
And that’s why I haven’t been blogging much this month.
I also have had nothing much to say about anything including the process of writing because I am knee-deep in it.
It amazes me- ME a person who took up knitting in order to force myself to stay sitting down for longer than three minutes at a time- that I can spend the whole day poring over my computer, debating each word, and deciding the necessity of each phrase. And not just one day. Currently I am on Day #4. We’re talking cumulatively about 40 hours.
The last time I spent 40 hours doing anything I was in labor.
Like in my first book where I had the word ‘pink’ two or three times in the same paragraph. That paragraph is so excruciating to me that I skip over it when I read.
When I have taken some time away from blogging(bloggery) I begin to ask myself why I do it in the first place.
Is it because I like being part of a massive community? Is it because I think I have something (occasionally) useful to share?
Is it because I’m a lonely ego maniac?
Or is it just part of my personal need to document feelings and events in words? The same thing that drives me to write fiction?
shut-in hermit with Napoleon complex?