Alphabet Dating is set in NYC!
I wish procrastination was an art that reaped rewards. I’d be a multi-award winner, I tell you.
I know lots of people procrastinate and where writing is concerned the thing I put off and dance about and make myself sick worrying about and avoiding is editing.
Today I’ve done a massive edit of Alphabet Dating. Why it has taken me until today to do it I do not know. I think I work better with tight deadlines. Also, I avoid things I’m not naturally good at.
I love the blank page and the possibility of heading off on an adventure with new characters as they weave their way through adventures and chaos. Re-writing those adventures, conceding that you’ve overused certain words or under-written ceratin sections, well, that’s a whole lot less fun for me.
I have a close friend who works in the corporate would and she says “we’re not finishers, Mon.” We’ll both work on a project for a year and then put of writing the final report, which might take a matter of hours. I’m the same when it comes to invoicing for my day job. You’d think, given I won’t get paid if I don’t invoice I wouldn’t put that off right? Wrong!
I think I dislike editing because it holds a mirror to the flaws in a novel – I do realise the whole reason you edit is to fix them – but I think it makes it very real. This book has been two beta-readers. It’s been given a good edit. I’m re-editing it. Then once I finish I’ll then send it to someone else to re-edit. And then maybe someone else as well. After that however there’s nothing left to do but send my baby out into the world…I think that’s why it’s scary and why we put it off…not just me, loads of writers do it.
I think that’s why editing and procrastination are natural friends especially if like me, procrastination is pretty natural anyway…why do you procrastinate?
3/27/2013 12:42:56 pm
I procrastinate about anything I dread doing: laundry, the recycling at work, marketing, blog writing and posting. The funny (perverse) thing is… the longer I procrastinate, the longer that horrible task–whatever it is–hangs over my head. When I finally just pull up my big-girl panties and do whatever it is, it’s done. Except laundry. That’s NEVER done.