Editing Saint Stephen Street once more for re-submission. Lots of rewrites. Very painful but worthwhile process, especially if this particular magazine that is considering it finally accepts it for publication.
Editing this much reminds me of any attempt I made at sculpting with clay – usually in art class at school. I could never quite leave a sculpture alone once I reached a point where it resembled something. Usually it was a head, with bizarrely distended features – eyes too far up and chin too pointy. But I couldn’t leave it alone and would do something like decide to remodel the nose because I wasn’t quite happy with it, but the clay would never quite work the same and all I could see were the joins and the lumpy bits with a kind of unnatural focus that doesn’t exist when looking at other people’s work.
Feeling a little the same about this story. Moving scenes and sequences around – remodelling them so as they fit together in different ways, but I’ve toyed with it so much that I can’t see it objectively any more.
All I can see are the lumpy bits. Can’t focus on the big picture. Cross fingers. Hit send.