I’m not really sure where I am going. I know where I have been today. Caffeine town, on Doubt alley.
I have managed to edit 20 thousand words. And what have I learnt? That I use the word “hiss” at least once a page – and no I’m not writing about snakes; that I use the word “order” nine times in one paragraph; that I CANNOT spell and that punctuation is something I leave to those that know who to wield it.
None of this is helpful. Neither is thinking about the flaws, the gaps and the omissions. We all know what it’s like. You put the manuscript in the bottom draw for a few weeks. One day it’s time to peek at it again only to find that it’s awful and terrible.
I’m putting it down for tonight. I will be picking it up tomorrow bright and early (as bright and early as my hangover allows!) and not only will I be killing my darlings, I will be smashing them, burning them, torturing them till they make me both weep and sing with delight. Then I will kill them some more.
I can’t despair. Not after nearly eighty thousand words.