Editing

Is there anything more frustrating than editing? I'm sure it's a question every aspiring author has asked at some stage - maybe every time they finish writing a draft of something.

But it is certainly true. I finally finished my first novel (bar the ending which I decided would be best left until I had re-read my own work) and jumped into the editing stage with relish. I couldn't wait to see how talented I was, how I was so much more talented than those other idiots I had been reading for years.

Dickens? Grisham? Fleming? Oh how I would laugh at them....then I read it.

Seriously what happened to my fantastic, flowing, intriguing masterpiece? Had it been stolen and replaced by this rubbish? I wish.

No, it hadn't and so began the process of correcting my mistakes and modifying the flaws in my style, prose and grammar. Not to mention the inevitable changes to plot line that occurred over the months of stop-start writing. I honestly do know the difference between form and from, weight and wait. I have used commas before, really. And don't get me started on semi-colons...I hate them.

But this is the craft, or so I read. This is when the real work begins and the book appears. Without it, the perfect novels we take for granted around the pool on holiday would never exist. Maybe it feels worse for me because the project I chose for book number one was so complex, or maybe this is just the reality.

But, in a sadistic sort of way, I'm actually quite enjoying it. I can see the end result in my mind. I try to use it as inspiration to struggle through despite constant temptation to start on something new, something creative that allows me to write again.

One day, when I'm rich and famous and lying at my own private pool, I'll employ someone to edit for me.

Until then I'm on my own.