I am just about to come to the end of what will be the final edit of… Draft number 12 of my first novel… I think it’s number 12, but I’ve lost count. So I’m a long way off seeing my book in print, let alone watching Renée Zellweger win another gong for playing the part of my MC and thanking me in her acceptance speech.
I’ve moved on from binge watching Game of Thrones, along with the other addicted viewing millions as we wait, anxiously twiddling our fingers, for Season 8 to explode on to our screens in 2019.
Three years ago, I started with an idea that had been in my head for twenty-five years. No plan, no plot, just an idea and I gave myself free rein to let the story unfold in any direction. As I was seeing life from a more mature perspective, the idea took another turn when I became all consumed with my main character’s backstory.
To be an editor you need to be disciplined, a skill I am having to knuckle down and cultivate.
I’m torn between wanting to finish the edit a.s.a.p. and coming up for up air to give myself a break.