The most flattering thing she said about the book, was that she cried at the end. So a few more violins for the other chapters, and I've written six more historical chapters, put epigraphs at the beginning of each historical chapter, tidied and sorted and worked on the prose - but repetitions still catch me out. This is one of my favourites, discovered today:
The house was a mess, a bottle of vodka open in the living room, papers all over the room. Photographs of Sadie covered every inch of the windowsill of the living room, with vases that scented the room with the bitterness of decaying flowers.What was I thinking? There's loads more of those to go through, and I don't see them, although I do hear them. So I have to read out loud, to some willing victim (because I skip over it and read what I meant to say otherwise) to recognise where I've gone horribly wrong. I feel guilty about printing off so many pages but it seems to be the only way, reading with a few coloured pens in my hand.
I need to go through the second half of the book, now, ready to send it off to the agent's line editing. Then more edits... At least I will have a bit of time to breathe and work on the next book(s) and get back to Sage. The next Borrowed Time is writing itself in my head, which is lovely, but not at 4a.m.