I disappeared for months again. In spite of all my best intentions, I keep doing that. This winter, I had a good excuse.
I was re-writing my book.
When I say re-writing, I don’t mean going over it once more and checking for errors. I meant that I started again at page one, and re-wrote the whole thing. Almost 500 pages. 483 pages, to be exact.
If I sound like I’m bragging, it’s because I am.
Not everyone can re-write an entire novel in less than two months, and make it better. I feel good about what I did, not only the intentions I had when I began, but the place I find myself now. Namely, waiting to hear back from my editor. No matter how joy-filled I am in my own accomplishment, in the end, I have to put myself back in the chair.
Good thing I like to live there.