I got started on Stag in Velvet revisions today. I'd forgotten that I'd already trimmed a lot of the excess in the beginning of the book, so I didn't get a chance to make the truly drastic cuts I'd been looking forward to. I've only cut 3,000 words so far, although I do plan to take a really hard look at chapter four tomorrow. It's far too long and it's got an awful lot of description. I don't like description--it slows down the pacing--and I think I can get rid of at least some of it.
I didn't realize I'd been irritable the last several days, until this morning when I woke up serene and happy. Instead of yelling at the cat to for gawd's sake shut UP so I can concentrate, I went to see what she needed; instead of complaining to the dog that I just let him out fifteen minutes ago, I just opened the door for him and made sure he had water in his bowl. Apparently, working on the very end of a book makes me tetchy, and finishing a book makes me happy. Makes sense.
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