Ok, I know it sounds extremely bad and dire, but it really isn't. I'm just a little tired--although I do have fabulous new hair. But none of that is actually what this long overdue blog is about.
I hate editing. I have no problem saying it. I hate editing. Not with the passion of say, a thousand exploding suns, but there is a fierceness to my hatred of editing. I know why it has to be done. I can even appreciate why it has to be done. It does not mean I have to like doing it by any means.
I think I hate it more because I always know when I can't put it off anymore. Usually around the 3/4 through mark on a book, I realize everything wrong with it. From major plot points to scene changes to massive cuts, all of it hits me at about page 250-300 on the writing side. And with all of that change just staring at me in the face, the writing comes to a screeching halt. My brain refuses to move forward until I fix all the prior mistakes.
Very little is more aggravating to a writer than having your brain refuse to do any flippin' work. And so in a fit of childishness, I get pissy at the the thing preventing me from doing what I want to do. Hence my hatred of editing.
But the good news is that I've cleared that ginormus hurdle with New Moon Rising. Provided I get the all clear from my phenomenal writing partner, I've fixed all the craptatasticness of the first draft. Which means everything I write now, with the mojo flowing like good cheap vodka on a Wednesday night, will be on point with what came before. Which will make the second round editing that much easier.
So, I'm moving forward. Maybe a little faster than a crawl. But I'm not up to running yet.