So. It’s been over two months. Two months of chaos, stress, travel and revelations. Namely, I was never meant to travel with other people. And my capacity for close relationships may also be called into question. I am a watcher and a control freak. Which ought not be surprising, but as it turns out, is. After my last bout of travels (nearly a decade ago), I thought it was a bit sad not to have anyone to share incredible experiences with. As it turns out, I can’t handle the distraction of having another person interrupting the experience. Fascinating. I rather pity Cole, with the incessant presence of Cadence nattering away at her… although thinking again, maybe that’s why I can’t have other people around too much; it gets too busy with the extra voices… Hmm…
I need to track down an editor sooner than later, particularly as none of my beta readers actually gave me feedback in the end. (OK, my mom finished the book…) And yes, I am going to ignore the poor indicator that such a tragedy would seem to be. It’s not because my writing is boring, confusing or revolting. It’s that none of the readers were a good fit. Almost certainly. Or maybe. Oh dear.
…anyways, yes! Hire an editor! One with sufficient qualifications that I won’t be able to dismiss their feedback out of hand, but not so accomplished that I can’t afford him/her… because it is a pain trying to make money! There’s always either too much or too little consulting work, and although the rates can be great, they can also…not. And the manual labour route that I’ve spent the past few weeks on is really not a long term solution, if my bruises have anything to say about it. Not to mention how hard it is to dive back into work after a shift. It does leave time for thinking, though, which could be a bonus. Sat down last week for a bit to start work on a new, male-led semi-autobiographical (or possibly completely) work that I, of course, think has major potential to be brilliant in an awkward, off-beat and self-deprecating way. Like Woody Allen, but less ick. Or something. [Insert clever cultural reference here] lol.
Anyways, yes. Rewrites. Which means I need to read the small bit of feedback I did receive, think about purpose and meaning and effective communication, and make some hard decisions.
Or I could reread what I’ve written and fall in love with it and throw it up on the internet for all to see. There’s always that route…
Start time: 6 pm
Mallaig: The West Highland Hotel, staff quarters block 1 the room beside 4, bed Soundtrack: washing machine on the other side of the wall
Drinking: Laphraoig Select