I finished the read through today. The entire copy is marked up in pink ink. Some of the notes are random. “What was I thinking?” or “Who wrote this?” Some are specific. “Shouldn’t the dog be in this scene?” If I die before I finish, the notes will make no sense to anyone, so I guess I have to live through it and finish the damn thing.
Tonight, I bundled the manuscript into packets of 10 pages each, stapled in the top left hand corner, and wrote a number on each packet. We’ll see how it goes from here. I know myself. If I bite off too much, I’ll give up. The plan is to work on one packet a day. I can’t go back. I can’t go forward.
I don’t have any cute stories to tell today. I didn’t get out much. Bear with me, I may have more days like this.