Worked until about six PM yesterday, finishing 170 pages of manuscript line edit. I have thirty left for today, after which I’ll start type-in.
Here’s the hell of the thing. I have been over this now so many times that I genuinely don’t know if it’s any good or not. I’m numb. On a line by line basis, I’m okay — I haven’t forgotten grammar skills or lost the ability to feel the rhythm of sentences. But as for the story … no clue. It might be better than the version Claire first read, it might be worse, it might be really good or lying there dead on the page and at this moment I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. The whole process has become one big blur.
This has not been a happy book to write.