Phew! I finally made it to the end of my book. Now I'm back in the Word document on my computer making many millions of changes and CUTTING whole sections.
I'm 16 pages in to the printed copy and I've already cut more than a page. Coming up in the next couple of chapters I've got whole pages that are going to go. It's kind of like cutting off my arm, but at least my book will weigh less in the end. It feels like progress.
Of course, no writing project is ever completely done, just done enough for other people to read it, you hope. But as I cut and make corrections and add new sentences that I wrote in the margins of my manuscript, it feels like I'm making the book stronger.
After I'm done entering these edits into my Word file, I'm going to read through the book again to make sure it's coherent after cutting and adding. Then I'll print it again and try to identify my next victim, I mean, reader.
So far, unless they've been reading my blog, my friends and family don't know that I'm writing a book, with the exception of my friend who read it and her husband. I'm not sure why it's such a secret, but I haven't been brave enough yet to talk about what I'm working on. They'll find out sooner or later, I suppose.
For now, it's just a hobby. But, who know? Maybe an agent will want to read it and maybe they'll think a publisher might want to buy it. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
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