Fiddler and Her Proofs

I should be all aglow with happiness--the final version of Like a Thief in the Night is turned in, and the excerpt is up on the Samhain site. Instead, all I see are things I want to change.

I can't help it, I'm a fiddler. I nitpick. I tweak.

Editor Laurie and the ever-patient Bam can attest, every time I send in a draft, something is different. I just can't help it. Just yesterday, I noticed in Ember chapter 8 that I described fabric as jacquard when I really meant brocade. O, the horror! I can't believe I did that! (Sorry, Anonymous Auction Winner!). It will be fixed in the full PDF.

I can't leave well enough alone. I change a word here, a sentence there. When a question about my main character that wakes me in the middle of the night like, "What does she do when she's not killing people?" I have to answer it.

It's like some kind of curse: Lo, and she shall edit nigh until the very end.

One of these days, I'm going to have to learn to let go. Maybe I can do that by obsessing on my next WIP?

WIP Title: Rohais
Word Count: 7,000/95,000
Current Favorite Words:

Alone of all my sisters, I was not named to honor queens or saints. Instead, my stepmother named me for the climbing rose on the south wall of her garden, with its sweet scent and wicked thorns.

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Can't Talk. Writing.

Can't talk. Writing. In the mean time, please enjoy this photo of the palm tree in our back yard. It used to be rather scary and disreputable-looking. There were likely all manner of yucky little creatures living in its beard of dead fronds. But we got it trimmed--a palm tree make-over! And now, it's practically iconic.


I used to think every Californian had at least two of the following plants in their yards: roses (blooming through January, natch), citrus tree(s), palm tree(s), avocado, Bermuda grass (not necessary, but it's unavoidable).

But, palm trees and Bermuda grass excepted, none of those plants are drought-tolerant. And we are in a drought. Which means I ought to get out and enjoy my roses before they're gone, gone, gone.

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