It’s been a while since my last Project: Edit update.¹ I’m almost hesitant to write one, given my tendency to jinx myself whenever I’ve had a string of productive days, but whatever. Update you I shall.
Things have been productive.
It took a while to get started on the actual editing of my second draft, but the ball is rolling on that. I’m taking it scene by scene, doing my best to be all there when I write. Somewhere, a long time ago, I wrote that the first and second drafts felt super rewarding, but for different reasons. Already, the same holds true for my third draft.
For the first draft, I didn’t know where I was going, didn’t know what kind of characters I’d meet along the way. What resulted was surprisingly coherent, but far from polished. I added subplots, strengthened characters, bada-bing bada-boom,² the second draft was born. With both of those drafts, I wrote to get the story down, not to make it pretty.
This time feels different. It feels slow, calculated, intricate. Not overworked — just worked. It’s fun to focus on each scene, fun to make each one special, fun to know the whole story and strengthen its parts. As satisfying as it was to know I could produce quantity, it’s a hundred times more satisfying to see the quantity morph into (what I hope is) quality.
It’s late, and it’s been a full day. Time for a little Curb Your Enthusiasm (our most recent DVD fix) after a midnight conversation with my sweet husband and my little editing assistant.³
Project: Edit Update | The note card system is alive and thriving. I’m still working my way through section one (of nine), but progress is progress. Diligence is key, and that’s been going well.
¹If you have no idea what I’m talking about, click on “Challenges” at the top of the sidebar.
²And by bada-bing bada-boom, I mean, of course, that it happened overnight. And by overnight, I actually mean that it took a while. A long while.
³Also known as Mr. Remy Fang Richard Alpert the Cat, pictured above, hard at work. He sits in my lap whenever I write, which is adorable until he decides my wrists are made for biting. Always nice.