As is my typical writing process, I’m currently procrastinating beginning the editing phase of my book. I tell people it’s because I feel like it’s a good idea to let the story “breathe” a little bit before taking the ax to it, but the truth is I’m afraid.
What if I start reading my story with an editor’s eye and it sucks? What if I hate the whole damn thing?
The rational part of me doesn’t expect that is what’s going to happen. I suspect that I will find some faults that can be easily fixed by adding a bit here and cutting a bit there. But I’m a professional drama queen and so I go straight to, “I know I’m going to hate every last word” and then I have to work my way back from the drama cliff and find a realistic ledge to stand on that doesn’t involve standing on the top of a bridge throwing all 43,000 words up in the air and letting the wind take the pages out to sea where no one will be burdened to read them because they are the worst drivel in the world and what the hell was I thinking, investing all those thousands of dollars to get a Bachelor’s in Professional Writing when there is clearly nothing professional about my writing.
So, yeah, drama much?
Thankfully, I have a proof-reader with a more level head who will also be giving it a read through.
Making it worse is the fact that I already have another couple of ideas cooking in my head for the next book. Or next two books. Or three, if you count the continuation of this current character’s story. I would much rather move forward than go back and edit this one. Like, I’ve done the fun part of this story now and I don’t wanna have to do the chores that go along with the writing. Just like a kid, I know. I want all the fun and none of the responsibility.
I think I need to be grounded for a week. Sent to my room. That’ll teach me…