After a wonderful summer break, I’m back to editing. This time it’s the third draft of my second novel. My husband is on a hiking trip and won’t be back until 5 PM.
I’m working away, trying to concentrate on a major conspiracy when my thoughts turn to food. Hunger is a mighty disrupter. It stops me from thinking. I go to the kitchen and grab something from the fridge. I return to the computer and to my editor’s comments (in a separate panel on the right side of the page). I fix typos, grammar, word repeats, etc. until my head starts to spin.
I go through the document, searching for curses, then write into a comment window under my editor’s: I found 1 shit, 1 goddammit, 4 dammit, 3 rats. Should she swear more? I added 1 hell, 1 jackass, 1 holy crap. Other?
I stop, sit back and look at it. I wrote that in all seriousness? I burst out laughing. I obviously need to take a break. Just then, Bo comes home, wonders what I’m laughing about. He reads my comment and grins. “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he says. “What should we have for dinner? And why are you still in your pyjamas?”