So I've spent the last few days in this lovely little vacation house here, putting the finishing touches on the latest revision of good old 'Fiersom's Brood. Thanks Wendy. Sorry about the beer stains and the broken window.Anyway, now I'm feeling kind of 'writed out'.
Over the past two weeks, I've ripped my entire manuscript to tattered little shreds, stitched them all back together, then smoothed out all the wrinkles, then smoothed out some more wrinkles, then smoothed out some more wrinkles. Hopefully there aren't too many wrinkles left. Have I mentioned that revision is my least favorite part of the writing process?
Yup. I feel like a wrung out sponge. And now all I want to do is lay beside the sink for a couple of days, and let all the scummy dishwater evaporate from my body.
But I do have a treat for those of you who've read the book. Remember how I ended it with the phrase, 'Which is so rude'? It was kind of my own little joke. I thought it was funny that the main character ended the book complaining about the fact that the antogonist didn't explain very much, when I, the writer, deliberately left a lot unexplained. Get it? 'Which is so rude.' It was meant to be funny, but it ended up alienating a few people, including my agent.
So now, I have a real ending. With a denoument and everything. And I think it's pretty good. I'll share it with those of you who've read the book, so that you can get the 'emotional payout' that the book was apparently lacking.
But it'll have to wait a few days.
In the meantime: sponge, sink, dishwater -- I'm gonna take it easy for a bit.