I am planning, over the next three days, to do nothing but eat fried chicken and edit. For I, my friends, am writing a novel.
People get this look on their face, some of them anyway, when you tell them you're writing a novel. Like you've told them you still live with your parents.
At all times, the novelist must be vigilant against the feeling that everything s/he thinks and feels and says and does is shit.
I'm through the first stage of editing, which is, quite simply, Asking Questions. The second, and more synonymous with tooth-pulling, is answering all those Questions, which can be as specific as "Rework introduction to M here?" or as general as "trite?" "redundant sentiment?" etc. These are more pernicious questions to fathom.
So, by way of a statement of purpose, three posts in, let me say that this blog will be a place for me to spin off ideas which don't readily have a place in what I'm working on now, especially ones (see my Inagural Post) which reflect my life-long love of science fiction.