…on A Bridge Too Far, because after months of slog I’ve finished it. Not just the writing, but the endless drafts and edits and polishes and re-drafts and re-polishes which can drag on and on, but which are worth it in the end because you end up with a manuscript you’re happy with rather than a dog’s breakfast.
This morning I polished the last couple of chapters within an inch of their lives, and caught a couple of minor howlers. Now I’m happy that the whole thing makes sense, hangs together as a single entity, and reads well without the sort of trips and skips that can make any book a bad experience for readers. I may yet still fiddle here and there, of course, the same way I do with all of my work. But if I found a publisher tomorrow, I’d be happy to put my name to the work and send it off.
Which is always nice.
Question is, what do I work on next?