I’m really tired of reading it.
And I like rereading my own work. It’s like gazing at my beautimous reflection in a clear pool. I could do it for…EVAR.
That’s mythology yo!
Here’s the thing about revision: unless you have a big breakthrough, at some point, you get diminishing returns. Now of course, a typo caught on the fifth read is as valuable as one caught on the first, but I’m talking about language tweaking.
Because at some point, you’re changing things almost no one else will notice. If you can pull a reader in so that they forget that they’re reading and forget about you, the writer, then they’re going to roll with what you’ve given them. You need to be able to judge that line.
Some things that remind a person that they’re reading? Inconsistencies, typos, grammar errors, and yes, clunky language.
But you get diminishing returns. You could revise forever. At some point, you have to let it go.
Aren’t I the same person who said that revision is where a lot of the magic happens?
I am, and I still believe that. But I believe this to. Especially if it can help justify me not having to read this damn book much more.
That night, they were bitter drinkers, in both senses of the word. Pints of Blue Monkey were being drunk, but despite that, the mood was morose. Ryker had started a conversation about what passed for genre fiction in the modern world.
"Sparkly vampires..." he said, between gritted teeth.
Everington used some choice words of Anglo Saxon dialect.
Dr. Rowan spat into the fire.
Col. Polson almost swallowed his cigar in righteous anger.