So here's what I hate about editing: when I'm writing, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I can tell people, "I wrote eighteen pages today." When I'm submitting, I feel a sense of excitement and impending success (and my mailbox becomes a kind of magical, mythical artifact to be worshipped and feared). But when I'm editing, I feel like I'm knee deep in a lake of mud mixed with bubble gum, and no matter how many times I manage to heave a foot out and take a step, the shore is never any closer. People ask me, "how's the writing going?", and all I can do is shrug and try not to cry - cuz I really don't know.
The thing about editing is that, when you do reach that last page in your manuscript, you're only allowed a moment's pause before you have to go back and start again on page 1. It's miserable. And its hard work. It takes many hours of sustained concentration on multiple levels of consciousness. You have to hold your entire manuscript in your head at every moment becuase you know that if anything slips, your main character will be tightening the hood of his blue sweatshirt against the winter chill on page 71, and then on page 81, he'll be unbuttoning his collar and loosening his tie to give his throat the freedom it needs to suck down the thick jungle air.
But do not fear for me, my friends. For I shall prevail. There is nothing that this industry can do to stop me. It may take time, but time I have. Time, and resolve. Utimately I shall batter through the gates of these literary bastions and wave my manuscript from their highest towers for all the world to see. And I shall cry in a loud manly voice, "I - HAVE - A STORY!"
So okay. See you at the bastion. Gotta get some work done.