As predicted, the end of the semester has brought a slow-down in my editing work, and at the moment that's a good thing. It gives me the energy to focus more on marketing my editing business, and it gives me the time to edit my own work.
I mentioned before that I recently completed the first draft of my practice novel, a fun little romance that was simple enough for a novice like me to write. Now each morning, instead of writing, I spend my time re-reading what I've written and wrangling the prose into something a little more polished. But I'm running into a problem.
I'm editing my practice novel at a snail's pace.
Yes, I seem to struggle with editing speed in general, but I don't know if that's just my natural pace, or if I'm a little burnt out from so much professional editing, or if frankly my story just bores me. I worry that it's the latter.
I don't think my novel is inherently boring. Stuff happens. My problem is that while this book was a breeze to write, it's not the book I'd ever choose to read myself. I mean, if I saw this novel at the library, based on its probable cover, title, and summary, I'd never pick it up. It's sexy, and that's fun...but it's also trash. I don't like to waste my time reading trashy books, but as I'm editing this novel, I have to do exactly that.
Meanwhile, of course, I have a bright, shiny new idea (well, not that new, I've been kicking it around for a few years), and I would love to start writing that story, but I'm stickler for finishing projects. Nothing bothers me more than a piece of art or writing half-finished.
So I'm pushing through. It's just interesting to me that you could enjoy writing a novel, while not necessarily enjoy reading it.
Or maybe it's the exhaustion talking, I don't know.
Just 41 work days left until I leave my job...