Author Wishes That She Had Been Trapeze Artist After All

I am currently at the crucial point in my new book where I'm approaching the end of the first draft. The first draft is a terrible place to be, because for the first time you can see how much is wrong with your book. Up until then you are working in lovely pockets of separate chapters where your characters are happy, your story is bubbling along, you're feeling a little bit clever and all is right with the world. Put all those chapters together and you suddenly realize that your characters names have changed, as has their hair colour, and their reason for living, and their reason for being in your book, and the story goes backwards, and you are not clever and nothing is right with the world. Nothing. All you can do at this point is spend hour after hour, day after day, week after week coaxing everybody back on to the same page, so to speak. When I have done this, I will return to my blog. Up until that time, I need every fibre of my being to concentrate on not hurling my computer out the window and me with it. Thank goodness for margaritas. And chocolate. And Gray's Anatomy. And cashmere. And lovely husbands. And silly puppy dogs. And emails from readers. XSK

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