Told you so.
The wonderful powers that be at Insecure Writer's Support Group understood that most of us would be far too
My husband and I share our computer desk. It's one of those long "L" shaped desks that are supposed to be ideal for those who have a single computer and a lot of crap to spread out. We've managed to shove two towers, three monitors, a laptop, and a ton of crap covered in post-it notes and wrapped up power cords across this thing. Other than the fact that I occasionally bite his head off for backing his computer chair into mine for the hundredth time, it works fabulously. Go us. *Self high-five*
Last night I grabbed the back of his creaky computer chair and spun him around. His ear buds popped out but before he could protest I held up one finger and said, "This is important. What do you think of this?" and then rattled off a few paragraphs that I'd just added to This is Now.
We talked for a while, about my novel and a nude cleaning service I'd heard about (note: not related subjects, and double note: no baby, they're still not coming to our house), before he said very deftly, "At least you're not having to rewrite it like The Meaning of Alistair."
The Meaning of freaking Alistair.
I've rewritten that son of a' three times now. Not including edits and revisions to those three completely brand spankin' new rewrites.
But now there's part of me that's shaking in my fake fur lined slippers. What if, just what if my goal of completing my revisions by February turns into a rewrite? My husband has watched me toil away at Alistair for the entirety of our relationship. A solid five years has been pounded away at that story and it's awaiting it's fourth rewrite.
Even though I know that This is Now is in fairly good shape and that the revisions and edits are all (mostly) minor in nature, I'm scared that it'll turn into a rewrite. And so will the next one, and the one after that until I'm tumbling inside of a swirling vortex of papers marked with shiny red ink and there's no escaping it all.
But then again, maybe I won't.
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