Yes, a weekend of revisions and even though most is additional information from my research, the red ink is like blood dripping from wounded pages.
It's progress, it's exhilarating, and it's....messy, red, smugged, wrinkled, with a drip of chai tea on page 16.
I know I'm not the only writer that does this, but when you print the first draft (yes, I print them the first couple rounds. I know bad AR, bad!) they're all crisp and clean and shiny new, new. I place them lovingly in my purple file folder. I may or may not hug it at this point...you'll never know.
Okay, okay. I do hug it. It's a reminder to myself that I love this work, even though in the hours and days that follow it'll pretty much be nothing but carnage with a few scraps left of itself.
Hopefully after the plastic surgery is complete, the wounds healed, and the dressings removed it'll be a better version.
Of course, that means I must do it all over again, and again...and again (Billy Murray in Groundhog Day flashes anyone? Anyone?)
Good writing all! (And lots of fun slaughtering - er - revising!)
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