I found this rant on editing to which I'm sure all writers and editors can relate. It's by Dawn Napier and here's the link for more of her work: http://convozine.com/15870-dawn-napier
The Five Stages of Editing
talks about how hard and lonely a job it is to be a writer. Maybe I'm
just a freak of nature, but I don't get it. How can I be lonely when
I'm writing? I'm surrounded by amazing people, and they all have
stories to tell that keep me up all night. And it's fun. In what other
job can I create entire universes out of the air, make them move and
dance to my whim, and blow them up when I'm having a bad day?
But there's one part that I do hate with all my heart
and soul, and that's the editing process. That part is both hard and
lonely, not to mention exhausting and heartbreaking. It's a
rollercoaster of emotion made all the more poignant by its complete lack
of documentation in peer-reviewed psychology journals. I call it the
Five Stages of Editing.
Stage One: Shock. I always let my work marinate for a
few weeks before going back to work on it, and I am invariably
horror-struck by how badly written it is. Grammatical errors! Adverbs
in dialogue attribution! Overuse of the phrase "the fact that"! Oh
God, this thing blows like a wind tunnel.
Frequent activities during this stage include drinking,
surfing the Net, and picking fights with my husband—fights that usually
begin with the question, "Do you still think I'm pretty?"
Stage Two: Depression. I'll never make this piece of
crap readable. I've been wasting my time. Maybe I'm wasting my life.
How will I ever rub elbows with legends like Stephen King and Brian
Keene if I don't even know the difference between lie and lay? I'll
have to die a horrible booze-soaked death if I ever want to see my name
Frequent activities include drinking heavily, watching
way too much TV, and getting maudlin over life insurance commercials.
Any mention of the passage of time, getting older, or lifelong regrets
is likely to induce an hour's worth of PMS-like weeping. My children
seem to find this stage the most disconcerting, maybe because I have
been known to clutch them to my bosom and whimper, "I regret NOTHING!"
Stage Three: Renewed Hope. This stage is one of the
most bittersweet. It can usually be induced by reading a chapter or two
from an extremely poorly written bestseller. Opinions vary, but I
personally recommend Fifty Shades, Flowers in the Attic,
or any of the Twilight books. The trick to reaching this stage is to
realize that I don't have to be Ernest Hemingway; anyone has a chance. Anyone.
Now that I'm back in the game, my only activity aside
from actually editing the damn novel is posting on various Internet
forums about the unfairness of the publishing world. "How can that crap
be a bestseller? Why do so many people have the literary taste of a
grasshopper?" This sort of post gets great responses on indie author
Stage Four: Determination. I will quit my day job,
and I will make a living at this. Bitches better get out of my way,
because this bitch is back and taking no prisoners—and hey where's the
coffee? My head is KILLING me.
Frequent activities include editing, drinking coffee by
the pot, and swearing on heaven and hell and everything in between that
it is going to happen for me this time. Scrapbook full of rejection
slips be damned, full speed ahead!
Stage Five: Pride. This is when it's time to pass
around the Xerox copies, email the pdf, and read the work aloud to my
writing group. I am one crazy sexy writing mama, and I want the world
to know it! I did a bang-up job, hell yes I did, and if the stuffy
Establishment chooses to reject me again, that's their loss. Hey, maybe
I'll self-publish it and make some REAL money! (PS--the stage of Pride
has sometimes been re-labeled "Complete and Utter Delusion.")
Eventually, emotional equilibrium is reach, and life
returns to normal. Then I start submitting my work to publishers, cross
my fingers, and the rollercoaster starts all over again.