They’re done! My edits are done! I just sent out an e-mail to my publisher and I feel proud and happy.
In the end we were able to cut a lot of superfluous repetition, but a lot less than I initially feared. We’ve gone from 89K to 87.5K or something. Nothing very huge, but enough. It’s made the story more active, more direct. Couple of new descriptions added, couple of idle reflections removed… but we have not diminished the power of the story and this pleases the snot out of me. The actual printing is coming closer very quickly now and I am so excited!
Is it April already?
Edits, edits, edits. I got a beautiful email from my editor today, full of praise and singing of progress and awesomeness.
Not only that, I also got 56 pages of edits which I just finished. (My head is reeling, but it was good stuff. I fucking loved doing this. It feels so productive and my editor is fucking amazing!)
Which brings us to 146/189 pages, 77% done! Next week I’ll get the last batch, then we’re done. One final proofread and then it’s really fucking done. I can’t believe it.
Also, not making sense anymore. Fucking exhausted. :’)
I go to bed now.
I had the weirdest dream last night. It was kind of a nightmare, because it was pretty goddamn scary. I just want to write it out so I won’t forget. Who knows, it might come in handy for inspiration one day.
Olli, Brenda and I were in Tangy, leaving our vacation address to go back home. We were on some island and it was raining and storming like a motherfucker. We were making jokes about the island weather gods being sad that we were leaving, turned on the music, and chatted merrily away while the wind and the rain were battering the car. We were supposed to leave the island by driving over a dike; comparable to the one over the IJsselmeer – there was actual sea on the other side. And it was storming like all hell; the waterlevel was dangerously high; we saw the waves lap at the dike, on level with us as if it was a normal shore. Not good – it was supposed to be a good five meters lower.
I cast some worried looks at the water and about fifteen minutes into our drive, there the first waves actually spilled over the road. “Well, shit,” I said.
Olli looked uncomfortable, but kept driving. Another minute further, another wave spilled over the road; knee-high.
We looked at eachother.
“I don’t feel good about continuing here,” Olli said unhappily. The road was supposed to be at least an hour more of this. And the storm was only picking up.
“Fuck this shit, let’s go back.”
So we turned the car and went back; back to the island, back to the cottage, hoping we could get in touch with the owners of the house we’d stayed at so we could ask them to stay a day longer. We just pulled up at the driveway – everything went black like there was a power outage…
…and then I woke up.
It seriously sounds like the start of a horror movie.