Over the years, I've learned not to freak out when I start editing my work and realize everything I've written is garbage. Well, not garbage exactly, but obviously in need of significant polishing. I've come to accept that there's a euphoria associated with allowing the story to flow onto the page and a panic associated with reading that work over at a later date. I tend to edit as I write, polishing each sentence as I go, but there are many times I come back to early chapters months later only to discover what I thought was smooth and glowing is actually awkward and in need of a thick red line. I waver between both ends of the spectrum, thinking some days I'm a truly gifted author and on other days that I should clearly never put pencil to paper ever again. Most days I live somewhere in between.
However, the day Kirkus reviewed The Clay Lion was certainly a confidence boost. The review company, known in the industry as "The World's Toughest Book Critics," said the book was "a lovely, tear-jerking tale of time travel, familial love, and sacrifice." Hearing that they consider The Clay Lion to be a "poignant, well-written story" which "puts mortality--and readers'reactions to it--front and center" definitely felt good.
Today, however, it's back to edits for Gather the Sentient and back to the other end of the spectrum. The good news is I know by the time the book is finally published it will be ready for readers to enjoy.
This is were you get to read about what's going on inside my head. I apologize in advance - the place is a wreck.