Ordinarily I pretty much enjoy this revision process: a close engagement with the text, fiddling on the nitty-gritty, feeling that I've done a useful day's work at the end. I've said it before, but I have the soul of a copy-editor.
Ordinarily, this stage doesn't have too much time-pressure attached.
This month? Not ordinary. I have this novel to revise and then a new ghost story to write, before I buckle down to what the month is really all about, which is reading/rewriting the big book. Which I am terrified of, on account of a strong feeling that I have buggered it up completely. I would accuse myself of putting it off, if it weren't that these other two projects have their own urgency.
These other three, as of this morning: pdf proofs of
Lace and Blade, including my own long story "In the Night Street Baths". So that's another 8500 words to be read through, sharpish. Before I tackle the big book.
In other news, there were carol singers in the market this morning. Singing Abba's "Thank You For The Music". Very, v-e-r-y slowly. It was - strange. I was confused. I came away.
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