Fresh Hell

My eyes are bleeding. My head hurts, and I’ve spent much of the last two days trying to deal with the toe-curling embarrassment of knowing that at least one person has already read my book*, and that they’ve been paying close attention. Very, very close attention.

Yes, I’ve just finished the first pass of my line edit on “Blood & Feathers”.

Things I have learned: firstly, that I use too many words (like that’s a surprise to any of us).

Secondly, that I create elaborate back stories for stuff which I don’t actually mention on the page, but which I expect everyone to know, because they’re in my head and therefore Must Be A Universally Acknowledged Truth (ooh, and second-and-a-half-ly, trying to say “an universally” makes you feel and sound like a numpty).

And thirdly, that my editor, Jon Oliver is a saint, whose quiet comments in the margins are terribly sensible and clever, and manage not to roll their eyes and tell me to go stand in the corner. He’s taken the thing I wrote, and he’s poked it, threatened it (politely, of course: Jon is nothing if not well-mannered) and made it behave itself; turning it into something I can be really proud of.

And that, if you ask me, is worth the bleeding eyes..

*I suspect this is a reaction I’m going to have to get past, and hopefully a very pleasant occupational hazard I should get used to…

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