My cheeks flush pink as the realisation hits: my second manuscript is shite.
Well, that’s probably a little harsh, even coming from me. However, in order to get anywhere, I need to do even more massive structural changes. Either that, or ditch it altogether—and that option is not an option. It’s over 54k words at the moment, so there’s bound to be at least the bones of a good story in there.
But the blocks I’ve been experiencing are frustrating and I don’t know the way around them.
The good news is I at least have an idea of how to begin the structural changes. And I have the tiniest sense of sections that will end up on the cutting room floor.
With my blushing cheeks, I press on, whispering to myself, I’m not done yet.