A few days left in the month, and it's been a mixed one for writing. I signed up for the National Novel Editing Month in March, in attempt to rediscover my mojo for the near-completed young adult manuscript that is Quackenbush.
NaNoEdMo tells you that you need to rack up 50 hours in the editing hot seat in order to get your Noddy badge, a sense of satisfaction and a warm glow inside. I knew from day one that it was a no-hoper; an average of 90-120 minutes a day? Forget it.
But I went with it anyway, knowing that whatever hours I clocked up would at least be hours working on the project, which is what I'd been missing for far too long. As it is, I've registered twelve hours so far, and should hit twenty by the time March 31 knocks on the door.
An honourable failure? Hell, I wouldn't even go that far. In terms of hours, I won't even make the halfway mark. However, the experience has more than proved its weight in gold, because I've fallen in love again with the book.
It happened last Saturday, when a gang of us from Skeealleydern writers' group descended on a library for a day's workshop. Six hours solid, and I've got the bug back, the itch to sit down and edit/rewrite, because I can see where I'm going. And believe me, I was beginning to wonder whether that would happen again for this particular project.
The plan is to crack on with QB, but there's also the consideration that a lot of my time will be taken up during the next few months (on the other side of our front room table) with Nemesis Publishing, which is entering a major phase in its development.
It's vital that I press on with Nemesis, but I certainly don't want to have my urge for QB go missing in action again, not after we've just declared undying love for each other. Again.
We seem to have broken up and reconciled more times than Ken and Deidre. Of course, I'm sure that this time it's forever...