Weird Science

On editing, obsession, and getting close to letting go

It’s been a while since my last newsletter.

Part of that was intentional. I needed to let the first draft sit. I needed to step away from the story and deal with regular life. A long vacation. A move to a new house. The kind of everyday disruption that forces you to put the pages down, whether you want to or not.

The time away ended up being good for the book. When I came back to it, I was able to read the draft more like a reader than a writer. You forget what you wrote. Whole scenes. Entire moments. Lines that surprise you because you don’t remember putting them there. That distance mattered.

This has been an exhausting journey, but lately something has shifted. I’m starting to feel real excitement again. Gratitude too. That this thing I carried around in my head for so long actually exists now.

I’m about six weeks out from being ready to submit to agents.

That comes with fear, of course. The fear that it’s not good enough. That nobody will want it. And then there’s a quieter, more protective fear. The kind you feel when something has been yours for a long time and you’re getting close to letting it out into the world. Up until now, this book has lived mostly with me and with my wife, who deserves credit for surviving the version of me that’s been buried in this process.

I didn’t realize how all consuming the editing phase would be. It feels like being locked in a lab, trying to bring something to life. Pulling it apart. Stitching it back together. Adjusting what doesn’t work. Some days I feel like the mad scientist. Other days I feel like the experiment.

The first draft lived in my mind. Editing has pushed it somewhere else entirely. Now the story feels like it’s in my bones.

But the work is paying off. The voice is sharper. The story is clearer. The supernatural threads are tightening. For the first time, I can actually see this book as something real. Something that could live beyond my desk.

That’s where I am right now. Close to the finish line. Close to the leap. A little terrified. A little thrilled. Watching for the moment when the thing finally opens its eyes.

Thanks for sticking around. The candle’s lit again.

- T.C.

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