The journey of editing my novel is bizarre, to say the least.
There’s a constant change of my mind; the writing is brilliant and I’ve impressed myself beyond measure or it’s so poorly written I should delete it all. The characters have fantastic development or they’re two dimensional people with no life. It’s a meaningful novel full of wisdom or it’s just nothing nothing nothing.
Now that I’m going through it and making notes of what needs fixing, it looks like a mess. Cracks are beginning to show and instead of fixing them I’m just adding to the list. Every chapter has red annotations that will make this novel just right. Only once I’ve dealt with all them, the process will be repeated. And repeated. And repeated.
Well, such is the journey. I’m not particularly enjoying it. I liked the original writing of my novel, because I knew what I wanted to say and I knew how to say it. In rereading it, apparently it wasn’t as easy as I thought. It’s too rushed in parts, too slow in others. Some things are too repetitive, other things need to be emphasised. I can’t tell if it’s any good or not.
If you’re over hearing about my novel, here are some thoughts that I wrote down during the day:
I want a cup of tea but the power just went out. The kettle is full but it can’t be boiled. That’s sad in a very first world way, so perhaps it’s not sad at all.
I went to church on Sunday night and someone told me to stick it out. Well. I don’t know exactly what that means for me right now.
Tomorrow I’m going to buy some slippers if I find a pair I like. Some people don’t like slippers. I am not one of those people. Some people also don’t like dressing gowns, and while I can agree that they have varying levels of disturbingness, I’m too attached to them to give them up. What do other people wear in winter when they wake up? I aint getting dressed right away, it’s too cold for that. You need something soft to get into as a transition from blanket to clothes.
I’ve started approximately two million blog posts but they’re not going anywhere. It’s weird how that happens. Why does that happen? People think blogging is easy, but it’s hard. Sometimes it’s easy. Sometimes I know exactly what to say and I can publish it right away and I’m super happy with it. Other times it’s hard because you have to make a single thought make sense to the world and drag it out. You have to put words together in a way that other people can understand. You have to process thoughts enough in order to write about them. Three thousand things could be going on in my life but I couldn’t necessarily write about all of them because not all of them are ready to be written. And yet other thoughts become fuller the more you write them out. Some expand, some become more confusing, some disappear completely.
Alright. You’ve had the Sarah-update, so I think I’m going to try and have an earlier night than I have been (don’t want to be tired for tomorrow), so I’ll end this here.