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I really want to hurt myself. Mike read through Broken Road last week. And even though he's read it numerous times before, and I've read it and revised it at least thirteen times, he still found errors this time around. Big errors...stupid errors...banging-my-head-against-the-wall errors.
I'm so frustrated; I'm so embarrassed; I'm so ready to destroy something.
Last week, Mike told someone that Full Circle would be ready to read in two months. NOT BLOODY LIKELY!
I have turned over the finished first draft of Full Circle, sequel to Broken Road, to my husband, Mike. He will read it through and we will discuss and discuss and discuss what needs work and what should be done away with.
We will end up laughing hysterically at some of the typos (and believe me, there are loads) and crying over the pain the characters go through.
I will get frustrated at how meticulous he insists we be, and he will be exasperated at my 180 degree mood swings.
It should be a lot of fun. The last one was.
Today is a great writing day. It snowed earlier in the day; now it's drizzling and very overcast. I would love for Mike to have had a snow day as well, but being here alone has been good.
The characters of Broken Road have been in limbo for quite a while and today has been the perfect day to get their lives going again. A few folks have expressed a desire to know what will next happen to my friends in Derry. All I can tell you is that life is never as storybook or simple as we'd like it to be.
