9 and 3/4 novels
I’m putting the finishing touches on my tenth novel today. Then I’ll send it off to the proofreader and betas and for formatting.
As I was reading through the manuscript this morning and accepting/tweaking all my changes from days of editing, I realized I’d hit the turning point and that my work in progress was actually reading like a novel.
I’ve somehow written another book.
My tenth book.
Seriously. I’m not quite sure how this keeps happening. Granted, I spend a lot of time writing, then I send huge hunks of that writing to the editor … and then voila, it becomes a novel.
I’m not sure this will ever become my normal, even though I appear capable of producing a novel three times a year.
Is it because each story is a different sort of struggle to tell? Each comes with its own unique problems and quirks? Or is it simply that once the editor adds his touch the prose somehow becomes its own entity, rather than a collection of words and sentences intimately connected to me? Thus giving me breathing space and some perspective.
I’m not sure. But the moment of realization is always a thrill.
I’ve written a novel.
How cool is that?
Well, almost. I have a few chapters to smooth yet. 😉