Ah, the hats we wear!
I came back from our trip all fired up to begin the final revisions before a (as yet undetermined but imminent) deadline with a copyeditor.
Before leaving home, I had sent out the remaining 80 pages (minus the epilogue) to my critique group. On my return, the first person to offer comments gave praise but noted my failure to mention the melodrama one of my characters has been playing with.
Writer’s beret
I too have been concerned about failing to include the melodrama, but hadn’t figured out how to present it. Her comment pushed my brain into a new direction—I could squeeze bits and pieces of melodrama into the unfinished epilogue, thereby giving it life without having to create the whole.
All of a sudden, I was wearing my “writer’s beret” instead of my “revision helmet.” Nothing very polished yet in these first scribbles, but they make a start.
Revision helmet.
Once that writing surge ended, I was back to making notes of all the missing touches to look for in a read-through of the whole: items that ground the tale in place—Senses and Actions—as well as Holes in the narrative and Redundancies.
Of course, I’ve gone over and over my writings, but plead guilty of nit-picking while being blind to bigger issues. So this time, I’m reading carefully but not changing the copy, while hand-writing notes to myself.
My Plans. Didn’t someone once say Plans are made to be changed?
Once I’ve completed this read-through, I want to move the WIP into a new font and spacing, and then go through a second on-screen reading, in-putting changes, and simultaneously seeing the whole with fresh eyes.
Sophie, my muse.
Sophie’s preferred spot for her old bones is on the sofa or loveseat. As soon as I move to the livingroom table, where I can spread papers out in the brighter light (my study is dark), she’s right here staring at me, waiting to be lifted to comfort.
So here’s my sleeping muse—on her job of keeping me working by her presence alone.
Kate Harrington 