Much to my surprise, I hit the editing deadline I had hoped to conquer this month. Last night, with enough time to sit down afterward and pop in Russel Crowe's Robin Hood for an hour or so, I applied the final line edit to my novel. (And for the sake of calling it something and not just 'my novel,' let's go with Curse Bearer for now. It may prove to be a working title like Sword of the Patron did, but it's closer to pleasing my publisher as titles go, I think.)
Anyway, this first pass of publisher-requested edits has been a lesson in what makes a person an author instead of a hobbyist. Editing is hard work. It has its fun points, as you see the exfoliation of all the padding, redundancy, and just plain author self-indulgence, but there are also points where its a war. Self-doubt, vision, publisher expectations, artistic debates, and just plain fatigue all face off in a new Battle of the Five Armies. It's no wonder I'm relieved to get to the first milestone of having applied this round of edits.
It would be silly and naive of me to think the finish line is in sight, however. Though I can smile and indulge in a few well-earned squares of chocolate, there's so much more to do that I had best only focus ont he next immediate step, lest I paralyze myself with overthinking the rest of the race.
But run on I shall. Reading the entire manuscript through for idiocy that made it onto the page as I revamped presents itself as the next step.
All this in the midst of helping wrap up the final details on the art in Port Yonder Press's The Book of Silvari, as well as poise the print edition of The Windrider Saga for launch in just a few weeks. Yes, it's as crazy as it sounds. But if I have to pick, I'll take a full plate over an empty one.