I loathe editing.
I know its essential. O know that on the other end I’ll have a better story. I know this, but still, I hate it. It makes me groggy at ten am, and pissy at two.
Which is why I am so very proud of myself for finishing the first round of edits on my newly completed short story, very tentatively titled “Judith”. I’ve had a very nasty habit of writing stories, giving them skimming edits, and letting them gather dust in my ‘portfolio’. This baby, though, has a home.
Or at least a doorstep I’m going to leave it on and hope someone loves it as much as I do.
You see, I’m sending Judith off to play worth all the other treasured short stories in the Writers of the Future slush pile.
Kind of a funny story there, actually. I was planning on getting it sent off in time for last quarter’s juding, which required a postmark of September 30th. I took that day off work, charged through finishing writing it and about a quarter of the way through edits, only to discover that I couldn’t go anywhere to get it post marked after 6.30. It was 7.15 at this point.
Argh, the frustration!
So I stopped. And knew, truly, that it was better this way. It gives me an extra three months to polish it up, make it shine for the judges. (And hopefully earn me at least a semi-finalist position I can grow from!)
Then, I come into work on Friday and learn that, of all the days for me to take off, that ended up being a very bad one. My boss was slammed, and with zero help. To make matters worse, that afternoon I learned about a post office, about an hour from my place, that postmarks until midnight. Oof- insult to injury.
But, like I said. Its for the best. And I’m trying to train myself to at least deal with the editing. Maybe someday I can learn to love it.
Like learning to love a canker sore.