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:
This is it!
A few spelling mistakes, a couple of tweaks, and I'm done!
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!
This week I resolved to do the final bits and pieces, pull it all together, begin the final run through. Yes, I was starting the third draft later than planned, but I remained confident that I could run through it before Easter, before the children are on holiday again and mess up all my routines.
Half an hour, and the first page looks like this:
Looks like I'll have to revise my deadlines again...