The night before last, I had a dream of climbing a mountain. Near the top, where it was icy and rocky, I was attacked by wolves. They chased me up a tall pile of rocks. I clung to the top while they snarled below, snapping at my feet. Then last night, I dreamt I was chased into a mausoleum by cannibals. Again with teeth-gnashing and ankle-snapping.
On a completely related note, I've been scrambling to finish my edits for Taboo. (While also writing the first draft of a research paper for school.)
I love most parts of writing. This particular stage of edits, though, is, shall we say, not my favorite part of the job. These are the kinds of corrections that my editor can find, but only I can correct. My editor can correct the mistake where I've accidentally used "to" instead of "too" or forgotten the second 'had' in the past perfect tense. But what if I've said in one part of the scene that it's late at night, but later refer to the position of the sun in the sky? I'm the one who has to make up my mind whether it's day or night!
The real reason I hate this stage though is that never does my own wordage appear so ugly to me as when I am trying to polish it. Every sentence emits the foul odor of cliche, unclarity, or just plain blah-bland-yuck. Would I actually, factually prefer to scrub dishes?
Well, let's not go THAT far.
The good news is that at least the edits are almost done, and Taboo WILL be available this month, probably next week, depending on how long formatting and uploading and review in Amazon takes. And Nook users, I will not forget you.
Ugh. Edits. Sorry for the rant.