Apr. 11th, 2010

gillpolack: (Default)
Today has mysteriously turned into the day of the slow edit.

I have a backlog of work because of the increasing loss of energy in my last few years. Today I picked up something I had started editing before the exciting events of late January and thought "I reckon I can polish this off." It still needs a tough outside gaze because it was an intensely internal narrative and deals with difficult themes ([livejournal.com profile] yasminke, it's the one you checked for Jewish magical accuracy, Secret Jewish Women's Business), but the CSFG has a novel crit circle running, so if I can sort it out just a bit further over the next couple of weeks, I will get my tough gaze. Ideally, I ought to have a US reader as well, just to make sure that the Australianisms aren't overwhelmingly impossible.

Anyhow, later this year it will be ready to start finding a publisher, all going well.

I really love long, slow edits. I love letting a manuscript sit so that I can see it properly again months or years later. It's a luxury most writers don't have and that one day I shall no longer have. I'm enjoying it while I can. I'm still at the stage where I'm making great strides in learning each time I write something. Allowing that time for thinking and editing is particularly important.

Right now I'm making my main character just a little less in everyone's face. When I'm done, I'll check the first twenty pages again, because I suspect they're still a little slow. Then i'm done and can find the next work-on-which-progress-stopped. Or I can get back to the doctorate. Which I do doesn't depend on a coin toss, but upon what my supervisor says about the material I emailed last week. If there's a ton of immediate work (which is what I suspect will happen) then everything else goes back on hold. Still, it's made a big emotional difference to me to be able to pick up the exact piece that I collapsed in the middle of, and to improve it a bit.
gillpolack: (Default)
I have a migraine and I don't care, because Jessa Crispin is going to read Life Through Cellophane. (Me? Addicted to Bookslut? Absolutely not. I can stop reading it whenever I want to. Truly.)

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