You guys are all writing, you’re moving on to new projects, not so much this little clause. I’m still beating my head against the fucker. But I bit the bullet, as Teri advised, and printed out the whole fucking manuscript. It is 124 pages single spaced. And I curled up in the little nest on my couch and began to read.
Something surprising happened. I didn’t hate it. In fact, I felt kinda proud of myself. The first part is the most polished. All the work I did with [name redacted] last summer really paid off. By the time I got to the second part, I realized that my transition was all wrong.
I had thrown the readers to the dogs and I needed to give them a break, otherwise they were going to put the book down, call their parents, and cry inconsolably. Who knew? But even then I didn’t panic. I thought about a few other places I could start, I began to consider a radical reorganization, combining two chapters. I began to feel tired. But exhilarated.
Today I may sit down with it again and begin to do the work.
How’s it going with you?