I read in the paper today that Stephen Sondheim (him again) writes music lying on a sofa so that he can fall asleep when the going gets tricky. Which he says it does frequently.
This made me feel better about falling asleep while trying to reread my manuscripts, which happens with depressing regularity. It doesn’t seem to matter which of my books it is, they all put me to sleep.
This used to worry me. I mean, if they’re so dull they knock me unconscious, how do the poor readers feel? But I guess readers have the advantage of not having read the damn thing four hundred and fifty thousand times. And they’re less likely to have developed a loathing for the plot, characters and prose style contained therein.
One of the cheery writers on facebook today commented that although the process of publication may be a nightmare, at least the process of writing is pure joy.
I’m tempted to ask which planet this person lives on.
Back here on Earth, I’ve got a few more revisions to do on the bastard manuscript from hell.
Might have a little lie-down first.