My manuscript feels like a stranger’s right now. This huge random gathering of words that keeps calling me to take just one more look. That maybe this time, I can read it without wanting to change something. Read it as if it had been written by someone else–read it like a book.
Ever tried putting your work into two side-by-side pages so it looks more like a book? Advice here–Use a big monitor since the font has to be set to microscopic in order to get the right number of paragraphs per page. 😉
No worries, I’ve stopped this strange sort of obsessive behavior that grabbed me by the pen this week. (I need to be working on Rachel’s chapters, reading Schaefer’s book and working on my book two-BOAA.)
Besides, every single time I looked at DOTT, I simply couldn’t see it objectively. Find that very interesting. I remember I enjoyed writing it. That I enjoyed the rewrites. Each time a chapter went off to my CP, I felt good about it. When she returned the bubble-riddled pages, I even liked going through and correcting all the typos and inconsistencies. Like the time my heroine smelled smoke before the witch set off the burning smell. Maybe I’ve just been rereading it through a veil of green, fuzzy nerves at that point.
Who am I kidding? I am a bundle of green, fuzzy nerves at this point. <g>