...and held it in my hand - I felt like Indiana Jones. It's precious, priceless even. It is... mine.
Is it a pile of donkey balls?
Only one way to find out...
Editing the first draft:
So I've never edited my own novel before. How hard can it be? It's only like a really long short story, right?
So I've done the first chapter. And now I'm filled with fear. I know that it's not supposed to be like this. I don't know how to say it... but... I like it.
The first chapter is slightly askew to the rest of the book. It is set in another place, another time, and serves only as a back story to one of the main cast of characters. It is then fundamentally a short story in itself. Maybe that why I like it.
Sure I changed things, but I didn't change much. It seemed... pretty good. It was tense. It portrayed what I needed it to. It was okay. No complaints. Good so far.
Now at this point I have to mention that I glanced at the first page of the second chapter.
Flying donkey balls!
I feel that perhaps I should leave that to another day. So I will. (But, boy, did that look rough).
So anyway, in amidst of my sheer panic over the obvious 'oh my God, I've written a whole novel of darling,' (and by this point had started on the beer) I realized something else. I had forgotten it. It's been in the cooler for a month (maybe a little more) and I have forgotten it.
This, people, is why we cooler it.
I'll be back with chapter two later, along with, I fear, deep loathing and disgust for my own words. And alcohol. Much, much, alcohol.
'Til next time...