Ah the bliss, draft three put to bed for a (figuratively) long winter's sleep. She finished with a grand gesture of epic proportions, she has taken a curtain call, bowed down to our feet and called it a night. As she exited stage left however a coughing fit overcame her, she gagged up a wad of loose leaf and snuck out the back door before anyone could protest. Am I making any sense? No I am not.
At this point the fact that I don't make sense matter's not. What is important is that the much awaited, final edit before the final professional edit, is upon us. Yup, you heard right, Draft 4, here we come.
This one should be easy ( I say now at day 1). All I need to do it find my voice.
An authors voice comes naturally right?
We smooth out the inconsistencies, iron over the slips, press flat the bumps, sail on calm waters to the end of the ocean. Ay, easy!
So why does the challenge of getting Draft 4 also done by the deadline of March 1 seem absolutely, ludicrously, insanely, eat your brains for breakfast, seriously out of the ordinary crazy?
Oh right, because it is. Thanks.
I best get back to it then.
Until March 1, as Dora the explorer would say, Adios Amigos
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