I officially started the editing of Matchbox Girls, this time for reals, on Monday. It helped to have a real date, and a manuscript marked up by Kevin. I haven’t had any trouble sitting down to work despite distractions. I could probably be doing more pages per day than I am but I don’t want to burn myself out.
I’m not making any major changes to it. Some have been suggested and I’ve rejected them because I want to get the book done and out the door.
Today was the first day, though, when I convinced myself that if I spent another six months to a year rewriting it, chopping it up, merging and removing characters, it would probably be a stronger story. I could almost see that stronger story.
But professionals I respect have encouraged me to not chop it up, to just polish it and send it out and let editors tell me how to chop it up. Or let editors reject it for being just… not quite good enough?
But I guess that’s the important part. Let others reject it. As much as I may want to stuff it under my bed and move on, I’ve already done that with one book. I can’t do the exact same thing I did last time. That would be boring.
But hiding it under the bed and moving on in search of the sure thing, the masterpiece… that would be easier than letting other people reject it.
I think I’m just having a bad day. A bad personal day, and getting to some parts in the novel where I can see the repetition one of my beta readers complained about. Just one, just one.
Anyhow, that’s my writing this week.