Writers complain incessantly about Editing Hell. A real place, you'll find such a reference in the Bible...I'm sure.
I'm currently in Editing Denial (that's the place you go just before entering E.H.) where I pretend that I make daily progress in my final draft of my first book. A book that took only 17 days to write and three years to find the courage to edit.
So, I'm asking myself how editing looks like in an effort to "find" my muse, my inspiration, my energy...and I'd rather clean my son's bathroom floor with my tongue than edit. I really don't give a rats poop what editing looks like, I just don't want to do the work. There's no muse, no inspiration, there's just no real desire. Period.
I want, like most writers, for my first draft to stand as fiction extraordinaire. I sit here delusional, I know. A delusion that wastes my time and makes me feel stupid, in the long run.
Editing does not mean cutting or rewriting, rather I find myself constantly needing to clarify what I originally wrote. I know that a good writer finds lessons for improvement when they edit...but I just can't bring myself to care. Yet, I've read sooo many bad books in the past year that I know that editing stands between schlock and readable fiction.
So I'm sitting here with each passing hour pretending that I make progress towards something that will go to my beta readers. I know full well that if I don't get out of the denials or the meh, I'll never finish.
So, I surrender to the feeling of "meh" and I move forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly. However, I need to keep moving forward. Forward momentum will finish this race.
Thank you for listening.