I have finished a draft of my novel. Now I am in the editing process, which for me can take many months. That is how they have all come, quick to the page, slow in the polishing.
I used to think that editing was like putting coats of varnish on a painting. But now I think maybe it is the opposite, taking the varnish off and finding the clarity underneath.
Or perhaps the right metaphor is an archeological dig, each layer down bringing more understanding of the lives of the characters. Or like Michelangelo, carving until the angel is revealed (I wish).
Whatever the right metaphor, as I am editing, I feel more and more that I have written the book I intended to write.
For better or worse, something of a victory.
