I don't let myself type "the end" until my manuscript really feels done. Since I tend to write about 50-100 words for every one that ends up in the eventual "FIRST DRAFT" I send to my editor, that means those 2 words don't show up for a very long time.
And then when I work on revising the draft I take "the end" off -- just delete them -- because, well, they're no longer true. I do huuuuge revisions. I love revising. I'm not making stuff up out of nothing anymore; I'm working on something that exists, characters that feel real to me -- making the story stronger, better, tighter, making the characters feel more real.
It wipes me out.
I closed a cabinet door on my head toward the end of the process and gave myself a big forehead bruise. I just kind of lost track of where my head was. Literally.
Not the first time I've done that, during revisions. One time it was the bathroom stall door in the ladies' room, when my husband and I were out to dinner with another couple, and I gave myself a black eye. I considered lying and saying somebody attacked me in the bathroom, to save myself the embarrassment -- but that seemed like it could lead down a bad path and also, I have promised myself the only lie I will tell is that one I admitted to above.
Hahahahahahaha. As if.
So I admitted last week and that time at the restaurant to having slammed my own face with doors. I am a hazard at this point in the process.
Still, despite the bruises, it's one of my favorites.
Here's another favorite: getting foreign versions of my books in the mail. This came the day I sent in my newest. It's the Chinese version of IF WE KISS:
It's very cool to be reminded there are others out there involved with these books. Hoping they aren't slamming their heads with anything.
So now I'm chilling. (Literally. So much weather.) I am good and used up.
More about lots soon.
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