Have you ever stared at your computer so long your eyes hurt?
That's me. Eye-stinging, computer addicted writer. Not all of this computer usage is my own fault--hell, I get paid to write user manuals. On a computer. For, I don't know, a minimum of 8 hours a day. So, yes--work is partially to blame.
The other 26 hours of the day (minus the 6 I slept last night)? I've been rewriting my novel. The one that has been now-- officially passed on. Not rejected. Passed back to me. The editor is leaving the publishing house. I actually found out about the move a few days earlier (Google search you will be the death of me and my nerves) and, well, lost lots of sleep over it. Finally I left a friendly little message--and... well, the manuscript arrived on my porch yesterday afternoon sometime. Form rejection BUT it had a nice little handwritten note on the side stating she was leaving. And good luck.
7 months. Actually 7 months, 1 week, and a few odd days later I am right where I started. Yep-- I wallowed in self-pity a whole 30 minutes before I opened the document and started revising. I mean--this is stuff I have been mulling over for months (maybe the last 3) but didn't. I was waiting for a rejection. And now I am starting anew. Sorta.
Don't think that this is so very persistent of me. Or that I am doing the best thing of my own accord. I have an agent that is lurking around and hoping I will get my ass in gear and add these subplots and submit to her. Almost 10,000 words of subplot text. So, I am. I am working on it. I am reworking and revising. I am writing.
The good ole saying, "Writing is revising" is very true. But please don't say it to me right now--I just might have to hit you with a blunt object. In the middle of the throes of a rewrite no writer likes to hear those words. We just want to get to the end of the manuscript and finish the last bit of writing. Again.
So, here's to writing (again). And finding myself some luck in this dreadfully slow and painfully disheartening world of publishing.
The other 26 hours of the day (minus the 6 I slept last night)? I've been rewriting my novel. The one that has been now-- officially passed on. Not rejected. Passed back to me. The editor is leaving the publishing house. I actually found out about the move a few days earlier (Google search you will be the death of me and my nerves) and, well, lost lots of sleep over it. Finally I left a friendly little message--and... well, the manuscript arrived on my porch yesterday afternoon sometime. Form rejection BUT it had a nice little handwritten note on the side stating she was leaving. And good luck.
7 months. Actually 7 months, 1 week, and a few odd days later I am right where I started. Yep-- I wallowed in self-pity a whole 30 minutes before I opened the document and started revising. I mean--this is stuff I have been mulling over for months (maybe the last 3) but didn't. I was waiting for a rejection. And now I am starting anew. Sorta.
Don't think that this is so very persistent of me. Or that I am doing the best thing of my own accord. I have an agent that is lurking around and hoping I will get my ass in gear and add these subplots and submit to her. Almost 10,000 words of subplot text. So, I am. I am working on it. I am reworking and revising. I am writing.
The good ole saying, "Writing is revising" is very true. But please don't say it to me right now--I just might have to hit you with a blunt object. In the middle of the throes of a rewrite no writer likes to hear those words. We just want to get to the end of the manuscript and finish the last bit of writing. Again.
So, here's to writing (again). And finding myself some luck in this dreadfully slow and painfully disheartening world of publishing.
