My White Whale

I've noticed LICT is almost ready to come back out of the oven for edits. How do I know this? The manuscript is sitting atop a naked portion of my bookshelves all by its lonesome. When I first rested it there (where I knew I would have to look at it every day) it made me nauseous to see it. I wanted it to go away and never see it again.

When I'm reading something else, helping one of my writer's group friends with edits on a WIP, or typing a blog post I can see the winter white stack of paper in my peripheral vision. It has begun to call to me. I'll stop reading, typing, writing, daydreaming for a few seconds, and lately for almost a minute at a time to simply stare at the stack. Recently this call has started taking on an aspect of a siren, and I feel like the fisherman who must resist at all costs.

When I can't resist anymore, when I can't look away and continue the task at hand, I'll know I'm ready to edit.

Why wait? Because I know the moment I absolutely have to lay my hands on that manuscript again will be the moment I'm refreshed and ready to give the story a good hard look with a new set of eyes. Until that time I'm better off spending my creative energy elsewhere.