Strange things happen once I start to edit my manuscript.
1. Excuses slip away. Not enough time? I steal time. From chores, from writing assignments, from my chickens. Even from cocktail hour.
Not enough motivation? There’s too much. I can’t focus on anything else. I work on my book all of the time. When I am not working on it, I think about it.
Too many interruptions? Well, yeah. That’s life.
2. All other writing work starts to look like a cake walk. I whip out 1000-word articles in an hour. I edit in my sleep.
3. I become consumed. A tiny bit addicted. And it feels sooo good.
Here is why I hovered outside of my manuscript for so long. Diving in means submerging. Clarity is exchanged for passion. But the passion is ephemeral. I have to plow through before I burn out.
Would it be too bold to wish aloud that this be the last major overhaul? It would be nice to not have to set fire to my baby a second time.
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