I haven’t written much about writing lately.  That’s mainly because I’ve been revising, which is slow, nit-picky, painstaking work, where I look at the big picture of the second book and start moving around all the little puzzle pieces until they fit properly, discarding many pieces along the way and creating new ones when necessary.  Poor old first draft.  It’s in tatters.

In other news, I have nothing to report.  The first book hasn’t been acquired.  But it’s on its way.  Without getting into details, I’ve been asked (by the editor who believes in it enough to keep pushing it forward) to make a major revision at this point, and I’m working on that now.  It’s a tough one, because it’s a scene that’s been in my head for nigh on a decade, so it’s hard to envision how it can possibly change.  But it’s important that I learn how to do this.  This is not the first time I will be asked to look at my work with new eyes and try something that’s very different from my original approach.  I wonder if it gets easier as one does it more. 

So.  Nothing official.  But things have taken a big enough step forward that I am feeling sicker than ever.  How is that possible?  The closer I get to what I want to achieve, the more rattled and nauseated I become.  How scary is this?  Either this is really going to happen – which, terrifying – or it’s going to fall apart and I’m going to have to start over.  Which I expect.  Because that’s how things go.  But the more serious and real it all gets, the more painful it will be to have that happen.

Everything is going to be okay.  Either way.  Isn’t it?  Yes.  It is.  Right?  Of course.  I think so.  Maybe. 

*pukes*