Sat, 16 Aug 2003
Gaah
I'm in the second and final edit pass through that goddamn
novel, and there is absolutely nothing on the web with
which I can distract myself. Baah. Near as I can figure I've
got a 500-word glue scene to write (to replace the scene I
wheeked out of the penultimate chapter to turn into the
surprise-epilogue), some tap-dancing transplantation to
perform on a minor mcguffin, and some polishing in the last
chase scene, and then it's done. Which makes it all sound so
self-contained and predictable that you might be forgiven for
wondering why I just backed up the files (to spare laptop and
iPod) before downing tools in order to go to the pub. I mean,
why not finish the damn thing and get it out of the way?
The answer can be encapsulated by a word: tedium. Writing a first
draft is fun, and scary, and challenging, and obsessive, and exciting.
Editing an n-th draft for the sixth time, two years after that
first wild explosion of ideas, is one of the most tediously boring kinds
of intellectual drudgery I can imagine. And I'm just reaching the peak
of anomie -- tomorrow I will sit down, grit my teeth, work my
way through the to-do list, format it up and email it to my
editor, then turn with relief to the vastly less tedious job
of entering last year's business expenses into a spreadsheet
to send to my accountant.
Yes. The sixth draft really is that bad.
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