I’ve spent the weekend turning myself into as close to a machine as I possibly can. My agent had given me clear-cut goals to address in this revise, which in actuality were quite small and manageable, and until about the tenth of the month to get them done. But I’ve been so motivated to get this out, so excited to get back into Christian’s voice (and stunned by the ease with which it came) and had such a defined plan for the revisions that, instead, I dove in head first and was able to complete them all this weekend, plus a full line-edit (Note to self: The Second Avenue train is, indeed, on Second Avenue, not Broadway), and even throw in some additional changes and expansions that weren’t on my original list. Once I got into the mindset of what I needed to accomplish, the revisions no longer felt like a list of things I was just ticking off; instead, I felt like I was building momentum, weaving a precise thread throughout the pages, and the places that needed more weren’t things for which I had to dig. Dare I say it—I had so much fun being poised over a keyboard once again, back behind my novel.
Now, a few short, open letters to summarize my (hopefully final) weekend of revisions:
Dear agent: You are completely brilliant.
Dear self: Why didn’t you think of these changes yourself?
Dear book: You are so, so, so much better.
Dear Tea Lounge: Sorry for loitering for seven hours on Saturday, and another two on Sunday.
Dear fancy editors: Let’s make this happen, yes?
M
