*claps hands together, blows into them anxiously*
*stares down at Chapter Eighteen, who lies sprawled but wiggling on the editing block, soft belly exposed and trembling*
I feel like I’m about to gut a puppy.
Eighteen is everything good about The Hushing Days. It is the manuscript’s core, its beating heart, its soft, squishy soul…
Yep, gutting a puppy here.
So, you go enjoy your day. I surely won’t be enjoying mine.
Post-Note: Sorry about the imagery here, but editing can be ugly business. Sometimes truth must come before tact… now, excuse me while I go smooch my furry, four-legged muse silly.