The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Beware. The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. Isn’t that a shame, and here I thought writing the last chapter of my book would be reason for celebration. Seven years have gone into writing the first draft and I’ve given myself until the end of the year to have all the editing done and ready to upload the beast onto Create Space. I am nothing if not optimistic.

About ten or so chapters ago I was at over 100,000 words. Color me too scared to count them up at this juncture. Scrivener is my best friend but also sneaky. It only gives word count per chapter until it is time to compile, therefore, getting an accurate word count involves pencil, paper and a calculator. Did I mention I have an aversion to anything requiring a calculator?

All math aside, this next bit of tracks to be covered could be the one that knocks me out of my shoes. I could, 1. Leap for joy right out of my size 7 ½’s or 2. be found a mile away very much like that bug on the windshield…betting I won’t be having the guts to do that again.

This is where I need a favor from all of you. No, seriously. It does not involve gratuitous reading or politicking for reviews. Lift your right hand and place the tip of your middle finger against the tip of your thumb. Now rub them back and forth. Ta Dah! The world’s smallest violin concert playing just for me. This next part definitely needs background music.

Writing is hard but editing is harder. By chapter 26 I hated the story and would have scrapped it if my husband and two writer friends hadn’t threatened my life. Just for clarification, I consider life without brownies a threat. I may have end-of-book-itis but all my characters seem uncannily alike. Different hair and eye color, complexion, height and weight and all that but personality-wise they all seem alike. Even stranger, they all seem like me. They do and say all the things I would say or do if given half a chance. That is just Twilight Zone scary. Did I mention editing is hard, like stick a number two pencil up a nostril and swishing it around in your brain hard?

Okay, enough. Drop your hand. All that discordant violin music is getting on my nerves. I need something soothing, like a handful of Xanax and a tumbler of moonshine because, hands up, thumb and finger together, and one more bar as finale…I have editing to do.

Susan

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