I’m rewriting my manuscript. It’s great! No, really, it’s great.
After one long round of submissions, a round I declared as over, somewhat arbitrarily, at the end of 2012, I debated. Send it back out? Or take another look? For me, taking another look meant re-reading, kind of liking some parts and kind of hating other parts, getting to the end, and wondering all over again, so, what’s next. Send it back out? Read it again? Maybe out loud?
I’m doing something else. I’m rewriting. I print a few pages at a time and retype them. Word for word (at first). But word for word breaks down, quickly in fact, and new words slip in, sometimes without my realizing it, like the words were there already and I just needed to make room for them by starting over. So far, the first 14,000 words have absorbed an additional 1500, most of which I wasn’t completely aware I was adding. Wisp words become carnate.
College is on summer break, baby sleeps well, I still wear my PJs toward noon (and beyond), Tiko and Sala approve this activity on my bedtop/laptop office.
Last year J said, “I think you have more to say.” “Nope,” I replied. “This is all I have to say about it.” I’m eating my words. Actually, I’m not, I’m adding them to the manuscript.