This week, I was presented with a large and rocky hill of woe. Or, with a bit of authorly artistic licence, make that a mountain.
My new young adult book had been written, then re-written several times, as it goes. An editor had done her thing, amending and enhancing it. We both liked the end product very much. And so it was time for the verdict of the senior editor.
With some nervousness on my part, but mostly optimism, I came to our meeting. I was hoping, maybe even expecting, the thumbs up, the all clear on the runway to publication...
And instead got hit with a requirement for more edits.
An appropriate metaphor might be skiing happily down a beautiful, exhilarating slope, only to smash into a tree that suddenly materialised in your way.
Ouch (a lot.)
Cue the standard Hall descent into despair, with much swearing, wailing and inner turmoil. I went for a run, had a beer, tried to talk myself out of my pit, all the usual tricks to lift the mood, but to little avail.
Which means it's been a sulky weekend of general snarling at the world.
However! That was then, and this is now.
The hours have passed, I've thought about what the Grand Editor General said, worked through the manuscript, and come to a couple of conclusions.
One - (and this is SO DAMN ANNOYING) ... she's absolutely right with her thoughts, and putting them into action will improve the book greatly.
Two - it's not actually so much work after all. A week or two of rewriting here and there will do the trick.
Levelling mountains; the mighty ordeal you see ahead, with the passage of a little time, and the input of some thought, is often not quite as bad as first feared.