I have set a new goal for my novel. I am going to finish the second draft by the end of August, and have my manuscript polished up and ready to submit by Christmas. (Although of course I won’t be actually submitting anything until January–agents need vacation, too!)

My goal is not as ambitious as it sounds. Over half of the manuscript is already in the second-draft phase, and a couple thorough read-throughs have convinced me that only a few small-ish plot tweaks are needed, a couple stray threads that need to be woven in tighter or snipped out. And I am, by nature, a fast, prolific writer. My ability to plow through the revisions is not in question–it’s the accountability that’s been lacking.

To make the whole process less overwhelming (overwhelm is my enemy–I’m one of those people who becomes overwhelmed very easily, then freezes up), I chunked the book down into chapters. Usually I work on a scene-by-scene basis, but the emotional fallout of opening my computer folder and seeing fifty-some messy, poorly-labeled files screaming for my attention was not pretty. Nineteen chapters seems much more manageable, and breaking it up that way gave the story a sense of rhythym and cohesion that I couldn’t find before. It’s easier to see what needs to be done.

So, I have seven weeks to finish the second draft. Eleven chapters already fit that description, but the eight I have left are the ones that need the most work. I am fighting the temptation to go back to the beginning and polish the first eleven chapters, especially since knowing the end from the beginning will inevitably make the third revision better. Must. Finish. Second. Draft.

So, I have to edit a little over one chapter a week, making any necessary plot tweaks as I go. Totally doable, if I’m commited. Which I am.

Can we fix it?

Yes we can!

Okay, I think it’s officially time to go to bed, before my characters start singing and dancing and reciting the alphabet. Some writers quote poetry when they want to inspire themselves. I quote PBS.

Oh well. Good night!

(This is a picture of the Davidson Windmill, near the house I lived in as a little girl on highway 13. I have no particular reason for including it, except that I always loved this windmill. Whenever I saw it out the schoolbus window, I knew that I was almost home. So maybe that’s why I’m including this picture–I’m almost to where I want to go!)