So about a month and a half ago I wrote this post about my decision to pursue self-publishing. One of the biggest steps toward that goal is getting the manuscript as clean and ready as I can possibly make it. I have help – a great critique partner who is giving me notes, and two good proofreaders who have volunteered to read the “final” draft for me.
Still I am doing a lot of editing. It’s wonderful, painstaking work. Tweaking a word or two, Googling (and texting my aforementioned critique buddy) about grammar, fine tuning the dialogue of multiple characters etc. Yesterday I was particularly diligent, spending about five hours in the thick of it.
Now, I’m one of those weird authors who actually loves this process. I love it so much that I wish I could have kept doing it deep into the night and all day today, and every minute until eye strain or comma consternation finally wore me out.
But like so many writers out there – I had to stop working so I could go to work, dangit.
Don’t get me wrong, my other jobs are actually pretty great. But this week I’m loving editing and loving writing so much that I wish it was the only thing I really had to do.
And it’s an amazing feeling.