Magic fabric. Had to spell those words for my daughter today. They go together in a hand-in-glove way.
My magic fabric, my draft, is my mending project now. Self-editing is sometimes painful. If you read this, you must know I don't edit it -- much. But the book, the book will get a thrashing. After a while, all my sentences started sounding like gobbledigook this afternoon.
My tendency is to write too much expository (the journalist in me) vs. narrative (show don't tell). I'm likely to delete hundreds of paragraphs. I've got three folders named Dead Passages already.
One highlight today, the National Book Awards. Inspiring, for the process that can blur vision and cause brain seepage.