There is some evidence that when I get right down to it, I’m writing in some kind of void. The words are pouring out onto the page and its as if I am watching someone else compose them. I remember a lot of what’s been said, the bulk of it. But there’s a shock when I read them and see the emotion behind them.
Yes, I know its been some time since—well since I said anything here. I am still working on editing. The first person to read the novel has finished it, she really read it. Comments and analysis and all. Most of my early editing will be based on what she deduced and came up with from reading it because as I look over her comments I think she’s right.
People don’t know it, but when you’re writing you have to delete entire sections in editing. Sometimes whole chapters go and there’s a pinch of fear before you do it, but there’s a sudden relief when its done.
It’s hard to explain.