It's hard to finish up...

                                           
                                                    It's hard to finish up...

I was supposed to start the final revision of my new novel, As All My Fathers Were, today. Figured it would take a week to ten days. I read it out loud to myself for the final revision and tighten it up, spread the differences between the characters, and rewrite almost every paragraph to make it the best I can do.

Didn't happen today. There were 100 other things to do and I got five of them done. The wind is blowing and the sunshine is thin and everything is still brown in Alaska. I did some good stuff, but not the stuff that finishes the novel. Tomorrow's a good day to start. Knowing my throat will get sore reading 500 pages aloud to myself and I'll be crabby because I know I can write better than that, I'll start it anyway. It is the only way I can get done, get it to the editor, get the book tour figured out and plan my next book.

John Steinbeck wrote a book entitled Journal of a Novel.  Day by day he told the story of writing his novel, East of Eden, his struggles, his work other than writing, the demands of the editors and his agent. This just didn't start here and now.

Lordy, lordy, what a way to make a living.