And so it came to pass that the writer received (most of) his feedback and armed himself for the next great leg of the quest: the editing.

With most of the feedback in and ideas for fixes firmly growing in my mind, I find myself ready for the daunting task of editing. This is where I take my beloved book, stare it right in the face, and for the first time openly say, “Baby, you are UUUUUGLY!  I’ve seen some ugly books in my time – yeah, I’m looking at you [NAME REDACTED FOR FEAR OF DESCENDING HORDES OF FANS] – but you, little Mr. “TDaC: AH”, you take the ugly cake!” 

In terms of people, all babies are beautiful, especially yours.
In terms of writing, all books are flawed…none more so than yours.

Editing is tough. It means approaching your work with a fresh set of eyes, a task that is fundamentally impossible to do when you’re the one who actually wrote the thing. Yes, there are tricks, but in the end it’s still your baby, your work, your mental blood, sweat, and (sometimes physical) tears. Taking any type of instrument, be it blunt or sharp, surgical or broad, and applying it to your work can be painful. It can be a good type of pain, like that you feel after a serious workout, or a bad type, like when you stub your toe at one in the morning on your kid’s bouncy chair right outside his room and don’t want to scream for fear of waking him and subsequently his mother who would have to feed him to get him back to sleep so you have to hold it all in until it passes but that only makes it hurt worse so you sit down right on top of a naked Barbie doll from one of your other kids and…well…that kind of pain, yeah.  Regardless of the type, pain is pain, and no one likes to hurt. Except maybe editors. Or dentists. But let’s be honest; the giving side and receiving side of pain are two different kinds, so let’s move on.

On the positive side, being in edit mode is like being in the seventh inning of baseball. I’ve had my time away – my stretch, so to speak – and now I’m ready to get back in the game.  Gonna take this one all the way home, leave nothing on the field, swing for the fences, add in a few more spots metaphors…whatever it takes to get the job done.  Shouldn’t be too hard; most of the game has already been played. I once read that Joss Whedon said to do the fun stuff first and then do the dog’s work of connecting everything together, because that way you have something you already like when it is finished. For me, the editing is d the dog’s work. I already have something I like; now it’s time to polish it up and let it shine.

Important as it is to finish this game and log it in the play book, it’s even more important to remember there’s another one waiting in the wings to be played.

P.S./Note to self: writing a book on writing in the form of a tongue-in-cheek fantasy quest would be hilarious. Do this…next season.