And They're Off!

On Tuesday I finished my editing.

That sounds like such an awesome statement, doesn't it?  Just uttering those words gives me a satisfaction that there are literally no words to describe.  Let me say it again.  I finished my editing.

Now that I've heaved that huge sigh of relief, it's time to face reality.

As of Tuesday I was officially done my third draft.  That doesn't mean that the book is perfect, of course.  Far from it.  In fact, I noticed a few things after finishing that will need to be fixed.  It bugged me for about a minute and a half before I remembered that this is far from the last draft of this novel that I will be writing.  I know that, once I get feedback from the beta readers, I'm planning on doing at least one more draft before even considering sending it out to agents.  And that might even end up turning into two, depending on the feedback I get.

Normally this thought might depress me.  I mean, I just finished editing, and already I'm thinking about what else I'm going to have to fix.  This time, though, that depression isn't showing up.  And I think I know why.

I've always struggled getting through this draft.  (In fact, I've never managed to get through a book in the editing stages the first time.  I always find way too much wrong with it, so I end up shelving it and never coming back.) While some writers struggle getting that first draft out, I don't seem to have that problem.  It's reading it over and seeing all the mistakes I've made that I start to feel like I'm in over my head.

Finally I've manged to get all the way through my editing.  I've even sent it to Beta Readers!  Even though I know it's not perfect, and certainly not ready to be sent out to agents, I know that I put a lot of effort into making that novel as good as it could be before I needed another set of eyes to pick out the weaknesses.  (Yes, I do still have some minor line edits that also need to be worked on, but I'll fix those as much as I can as I go through it next time.  Despite the nickname, I'm only human.  Therefore I do make mistakes.)

I'm excited, though.  Beta readers means that I'm one step closer to the goal of being published.  It means that I felt confident enough in my work to give it to friends and cross my fingers that I won't get it back with four notes telling me that maybe this isn't the book that will get published.

Now, more than ever, I'm confident that I'm going to become a published author.  This dream will come true.  I just have to persevere!  And put in the work.  One day I will see The Commons on the shelves at Chapters, and I can't wait.

Falling Into Your World

In an average month I can read between five and fifteen books in a month (depending on how much time I have, what's going on in my life, and how many books are in my 'to read' pile.) I get into these novels like most people wouldn't believe. I often can't hear what's going on around me because I'm so focused in. I cry when characters die, and throw the book across the room when the author pisses me off. (I refrain from doing this when I'm reading on my kindle...I hear it isn't so good for it...)

In other words, its about the same as when I'm writing.

This month I have yet to read a single book. I think I may be going into withdrawal, in fact. I'll let you know in the next couple of days if I see any more symptems. Anyway, the point of the matter is, I haven't jumped into any one else's worlds, or grown attached to anyone elses characters in 21 days, and I should be feeling like I need to. Those books piled up should be calling to me. Begging me to pick them up, to read them. Condemning me for neglecting them.

Instead all of those voices have been shoved aside, their room claimed by my characters that are making their presence known. They've figured out that they have a limited time with my full attention, and they're fighting for it.

Now I'm falling into my own worlds. Getting caught up in the lives of my own characters (which are often vastly different that I originally planned for them. Who would have thought. And I don't want to pick up those books. I don't want to get caught up in another world, not while things in mine are so tense.

I think I realized this for the first time the other day. When I realized that I hadn't carried a book even in my bag the entire month, replaced as they were by the laptop that now travels with me everywhere in case I have time to get some writing done.

It was when this realization hit me that I truly began to believe that I am now more a writer than a reader. Rather than being the person that reads someone elses words and yells at their choices, I'm making my own. I'm putting myself out there instead of pretending that I don't have any characters bouncing around in my head.

Now I can't wait to discover just how many worlds are trapped in my brain, just waiting to make their way to the page and show themselves to other people.

I'll get back to the books in December. For now, I'm happy to be writing.