Great was my pride when I finished Draft 2 of my travel memoir the other week. I had been working at the edits since Christmas and it was a wonderful feeling to reach the end.
I printed it out onto pristine paper so I could review it again. But silently, quietly, I was thinking:
Great!
This is it!
A few spelling mistakes, a couple of tweaks, and I'm done!
Hooray!
See how beautiful it looks! Clean white pages. Sharp black print. All in line, numbered, sorted and ready. It is even a brand new lever arch file (nothing but the best for my baby!)
I took a couple of weeks away from it, giving my brain a little space and a break from the words swimming around my head. I had been only a week or so late for my half-term deadline for Draft 2, so there was still plenty of time until my Draft 3 deadline (Easter). Why worry?
Besides, it looks great!
Half an hour, and the first page looks like this:
*sigh*
Looks like I'll have to revise my deadlines again...
2 comments:
Ah, the travails of the true author... At least be reassured that what you've described is the difference between good and bad writing, real and wannabe writers: editing. Writing's the easy bit...
I love editing my writing - the first draft is what kills me. It's absolutely standard for me to have version 27 or version 42 next as the working file name of my latest piece.
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