Revising and editing the last few thousand words of The Farmer’s Daughter is taking nearly everything I’ve got in terms of buckling down and grinding it out. I’ve lived with this thing for nearly a year, so sick of each word that I open the files with dread. Yet, I’m almost done. It’s got to be finished.
Last week’s word count was around 2500 when I started editing. I ended up cutting about 500, each one painfully extracted, modified, subtracted, and rearranged.
The chapter had started with a behemoth introduction of activities that were eye-watering to read. I cut the bulk of that and still presented too much. Maybe I should have cut it all—doubt lingers on.
The vows I’d written were pure crap. I went back to the drawing board, googled vows, distilled what I believed important to Tanuvia and Gem, then tried not to sound like a shmuck. Those vows were by far the hardest part of the entire novel.
Last night, I thought I had it. Yet, this morning, I cut another ten or so words. Though still not satisfied, the present post will stand, good or bad, for a long time; I simply can’t look at it anymore.
Routinely after posting, I open the next file to revise. I find that I work better without the deadline pressure so I always try to do the bulk of the labor the first day of the week. With relief, I see this file is only around 1000 words. I imagine I can cut that quickly to around 800. 800 words of drivel is much less intimidating than 2500. I need the break.
The week after is another long chapter, the FINAL chapter. Almost there! I can do it! I’m so ready for another project or, better, a lapse between projects.