I’m lying, of course. Editing is not the bee’s knees, or fun, or amusing, or anything besides eye-straining attention and brain-melting thought.
As you may be able to tell, I’ve put a lot of time into it this week.
I did make progress, however. I finished the first edit, which cleaned up as many typos and misspellings as I could find. I tried to come up with finalized names for the places and people and then tried to make sure that they were consistent throughout the novel. I deleted and deleted bad grammar whenever I found it.
That took several days. One of those was a seven hour stretch where I started to think, by hour six, that I hated Word with a passion and wanted to destroy the program from its spell-checking capability right down to the nasty little paperclip and his sneering gesticulations.
So, yeah, seven hours is too long to spend editing at a stretch.
But, I am making progress. It’s draining, though, and I haven’t been able to begin work on the next book. I’m taking a break from editing this week and trying to rope some friends into reading the first draft and giving me some preliminary feedback. Maybe I’ll be able to sit down and start on the outline for the next project. I have to come up with a story arc, at least, before trying to write anything seriously.
It’s good to make progress, so editing is good in one way. It’s just not fun . . . .
But who said life was supposed to be fun all the time?