On 15 August, the day I’d planned to release the new story, I’ll be crying. My fool’s dream crashed around my ears.
This time I used an editor, well, two editors. The first editor did the big-picture plough-through (that’s plow-through, not ploff-troff), and I got it back and spent A Long Time reworking, reshaping, re-imaging the story before I rewrote it (how many times? Four, five? Unknown, brain won’t register that number).
And now it’s back from the line editor.
I need a coffee or six.
Every single paragraph has comments or notes. Every single one — oh, wait! There’s one … no, that’s the extra comments tacked onto the end.
The hope is gone, the hard work has arrived, and if I raise my head in the near future, I’ll be gabbling like a goose and speaking with strange sounds that don’t quite sound like words.
If I ever thought writing was easy, I’ve been proved wrong since I took it up as a serious tilt at the dream.
If I ever thought the stuff I sent to the editor would come back with a hint of ‘great work’ (I’d settle for ‘good’) I’ve been proved wrong. Everything can be improved, and if I want the next story to be the best story so far, I have to batten down the backside and batter the keyboard.
However, I do work well with guidance, am never offended when someone offers honest and straightforward feedback/comments, and value every second a person puts into what they do to help me reach my dream.
Dream on, Dreamer!