I’m making my third pass through my book. I’ve read it and made notes and now I’m typing it up. It’s probably fitting that this page with a LOT of red ink is also rewriting a scene of violence. There’s no description of what happened, it’s not that kind of book, only the remaining scene and what it looks like.
I’m on my third trip through, for editing, and I still love it. With each new read through I fall a bit more in love with my characters. Yet, I also have to be objective and ask myself if this is how this person would behave.
I think getting everything out of the way reveals those things I wouldn’t normally see.
This entire process has been educational, and addicting, and I am thoroughly enjoying myself.
I’ve also learned something. I’ve done something that many people can’t say they’ve done. I’ve written a book. I have hopes that it will see the light of day beyond, but until that happens I can celebrate this accomplishment.