I’m editing. I’ve been editing for over a month and the end is in sight. I’ve done revisions, sentence restructuring and tried to remove as many *I*s as possible. I’ve embedded deep POV, taken out unnecessary lines (even if I love them,) and found repetitive words.
I’ve read this manuscript so many times I can practically recite passages word for word. I have favorite lines. Favorite scenes. I start reading the find myself swept up in the story that’s lived in my head for months, clawing at my brain to find itself on a page. I love this story more than I’ve loved any of the other four before it, which says a lot. Julia is a character more close to my heart than any other my other characters (which feels oddly, or not so oddly, like picking a favorite child.) As the story progresses, my heart aches for her loss. I can only hope readers ache for her too.
But I’m approaching the point where my manuscript feels like a game of Jenga. You know the game. You have a stack of wooden blocks and you take them out one by one until the tower topples over. Every time I edit, I reach a point where I feel like I’m close to a toppling point. I take out any more, my story crashes. I search for overused words and to replace them is a delicate balance because I might have used that verb two sentences above. Sure, RUN is okay a paragraph apart but FROLICKED? A bit obvious? (For the record, I don’t think I’ve ever used the word frolicked in a manuscript. But now I’ve used it in a blog post. 😀 ) I reach this weird point where I’m actually scared to change things, scared I’m going to screw it up somehow.
But I’m not there yet. I”ve still got beta readers notes to incorporate.
What I’m listening to right now: My new obsession, Lifehouse– It is What It Is. This song haunts my soul.