Edit.  Yup, that’s it.  That’s what I’m doing, or should I say, what I’ve been doing for the past week now.  It’s the lock-myself-up-and-don’t-come-out-for-air kind of editing.  I bring a stash of CCA with me and venture into the land I have created only to re-create it – several times over.  

Pepper Potts sits patiently by my feet, the kids grow restless wanting me to come sit by the bonfire and my sweetie just smiles knowing all too well.  This is the life of a writer at this stage in the game.  It’s daunting, lonely and unforgiving work, but it must be done.  There are times I want to shove my MS aside and say “No, not today sir”, but I dare not.  Breaks happen often and that will have to do because if I stray, I feel I will stray for good!

Do you not feel my plight?  Do you not understand my dilemma?  Editing for me, is not fun.  Not fun like getting all my wonderful/crazy ideas down on the Word document was when I began righting.  THAT was fun.  THIS is not.  I know, I know, I should be telling myself, “just think of how much better the whole story will be when you’re done” (because right now, there are definitely some parts that do not make sense).  I will hold on to that thought and forge on.

So, here’s to the almighty author who toils in his/her office, den, bedroom, basement, garage, shed, living room, etc. spending months of their life devoted to putting pen to paper, writing the next breakout novel, only to find out they now have to “kill their darlings“.  It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.