the cutting room floor

I just cut nineteen thirty-one manuscript pages out of the novel. Oy vey, but that hurts.

It took me days and days and days to write those nineteen thirty-one pages first time around, and it's taken me days and days and days to revise them. And now I've gone and whitepapered them.1 Silly novel with the broken back.2

This is the part of revising I don't like, actually. It's not that I'm over-attached to the words (the last few days of revision have been painful, because there's been that nagging in the back of my head that something wasn't quite working…). I am, however, attached to the idea of progress. And somehow, when you measure forward progress by counting up the days words, cutting never does feel like progress.

Le sigh.

  1. It's essentially taken me all day to reach this decision, too. Silly author with her procrastination superpower. []
  2. Silly author for writing a novel with a broken back. []

2 thoughts on “the cutting room floor

  1. There, there. Just think of it as shedding skin.

    (And then making OATCAKES OUT OF IT.)

    Seriously, cutting that many pages is amazing. That's real progress.

  2. LOL. Just watch me try and shoehorn those pages back in, in some form or other, over the next couple of days 😉

    It is progress, and I know it. Just the painful side-effect of using numbers to measure progress, I guess. I'd use a better way if I knew one.

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