Then WHY, oh WHY, does it feel so far?
I’ve been re-writing the major part of a novel for the last two to three months. It’s a novel I wrote seven years ago, and the first thing I ever wrote after deciding I would write. For reasons I won’t get into right now, I went back to it. Needless to say it needed work. We change, grow, expand, see the world differently, and I saw situations in the novel that I didn’t like.
But, this post isn’t about editing, and fixing, it’s about how when I’m at the last stretch of the novel, I feel like I’m never going to get to the end. I cut, and then add in so much, it’s as if the ending is getting further instead of closer. I recognize mistakes I made along the way, and I have a file entitled Things to Wrap Up, so I know the end is not really the end. Then a read-through, and then Beta readers, and then another round. So I’m hoping to reach an end (of sorts) in January, into February at the latest. Not in the two weeks or less I’m anticipating to finish my re-write.
I find myself full of adrenaline when I write, almost panting through it. And I tell myself, slow down, enjoy the process, that’s what it’s all about, this writing stuff. And yet, I’m still counting pages.
(I found this digital image on-line, and traced it back to its creator, Christina Pereira. In it, I see myself reaching for this ending, this goal, with all the others being too high out reach for now. I’ll have to get a ladder and a basket to collect them all.)