Since I wrote about my novel last June: I’ve substantially reworked its structure; A writer/copyeditor edited the manuscript (thank you, Vicky!); I’ve renamed the book (what was once tentatively The Grey is now tentatively Escape Plans. While I was fond of my original title, no one else seemed to be, and associated my title with horses or football or that Liam Neeson movie that came out over the winter about Alaska, none of which have anything to do with my story); I went through a depressing phase of hating my novel; I entered into another phase of hating it less and sometimes liking it; I went through weeks where I didn’t open the Word file, despite guilty notes I would write for myself saying “Finish it!”. Those notes eventually paid off because, as of last night, I did. Finish it. By “finished” I mean that I’ve gotten another step closer to actually finishing it because books have trajectories of their own and will morph and expand and shrink over time. But I’m done with it for now, will take it off my to do lists for awhile, and I would like to record this personal milestone here.
I finished typing in the final changes at the kitchen table, which as you can see is a bit of mess these days. The book about home renovation is Andrew’s, not mine, as he bears the brunt of that stuff more than I do. We’re not renovating so much as getting our place ready for sale because, after 6 years here in Montreal, we’re moving back to Toronto, probably in June. Predictably, I have feelings about this, a mix of excitement about going back to a city I love that has changed so much while I’ve been away and sadness for leaving another city I love, where I’ve changed while living here.
I’ll keep you posted on both fronts.