They say every writer needs an editor. Although this is absolutely true, it is one of those true statements like “the only certain things are Death and Taxes” or “your face will freeze if you keep making that face.” There will be no parade in honor of those editors so important to the success of innumerable stories through the millennia.
God bless ’em.
I much prefer the writing process, the kind where I get into such a creative flow that I am transported into my imagination and time and space in the “real world” cease to exist. This is much preferable to the laborious delayed gratification required during the editing process, where each word is painstakingly weighed, story continuity and flow are tested, and sentence restructuring is a grueling series of gymnastic floor routines.
As a writer, I want to share my story. During the past few months of reworking Luano’s Luckiest Day, I learned to adjust my internal schedule. I had self-imposed, arbitrary deadlines that moved me towards publication.
A word of advice to a first-time novelist and future me: deadlines are a great way to make progress, but make sure the deadlines aren’t too “hard and fast.” When I felt I was running behind my imaginary schedule, I was more likely to make decisions that were more focused on completion and not quality.
Having to go through editing made me feel like poor old Tantalus, always so close to quenching his thirst and satisfying his hunger – but never close enough. Now, even though Luano’s Luckiest Day is available to the world, there is another daunting task that limits my writing time: marketing the book.
But that’s fodder for future posts.