I know I deserve to pat myself on the back (with an awkwardly bent arm) because, tuh-dah, I got my first rewrite finished....and it was in the school holidays to boot. Triumph! Glory! Large gold plastic trophy to moi!
But, actually I have to confess, that in pointing to that reasonable achievement I am hiding from you the fact that I now know the story needs some...ahem...major rewriting. Hmmmm. I guess I was fantasizing that rewriting is just fixing up little grammatical errors and adding bits your silly old self forgot to put in. But no, my rewrite pointed a large halogen floodlight on the weak points of my story. Yes, that was plural flaws.
So I have spent the last of the holidays telling myself I am too busy to write because whenever I ponder my next rewrite, I am completely stumped about where I would begin.
Tomorrow my children are back at school and there are no more excuses. All I can try is to treat my next rewrite like a creaming soda bottle exploding in your kitchen- it's not important where you begin, just grit your teeth and start mopping.
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