Deb vs Proofs, so far:
- One (1) paper
cutgash, to Deb's right index finger
- Several (5+) stubs to Deb's big right toe, because she keeps catching it on the chair or the corner of the desk when turning to check something on one of the stacks of paper on the floor
- Three (3) separate instances of Deb being caught muttering to herself on public transport, causing irreparable damage to her facade of being (relatively) sane
- One (1) moment of soul-crushing despair, on discovering a seemingly unsolvable plot snarl
- Seven (7) nights of sleep deprivation, due to racing thoughts and the fact that proofs are, bet you didn't realise this, some kind of Lovecraftian horror what eats your brain
- ZERO (0) instances of seagull-singing!
- 473 pages full of little fixes: VANQUISHED
Huzzah! I think, technically speaking, the proofs are still ahead, given all the casualties they've inflicted on me. But I have slashed their innards with green ink, so at least I went down fighting.
There are still the big fixes to go, and when I mean big I mean like last night's effort — which involved 3 hours to fix a grand total of 5 pages. Oof. Word and page counts make fine and dandy targets, but they do not accurately reflect the thinking time that went into them. But I have all weekend to tackle said big fixes, which feels like glorious, copious quantities of time, so I'm quietly hopeful that I can do it without feeling too pressed by the deadline.
Now, did I miss anything interesting while I was buried in all those stacks of paper?