I believe I’m on my tenth edit of Cult Child. Yeah. That would be about right. I’m unsure whether to blame my overly critical reading eye or congratulate myself for just following my gut to keep reworking it.
I’ll choose the latter.
On very edit I’ve said it will be the last one. Not in writing land. No no. There’s a drive for improvement, to catch what I didn’t catch before, to change what needs to be changed, reworked, reworded, expounded upon and chopped to the floor. I believe THIS will be my last edit. 10’s a charm.
Someone on Amazon left me a review that I didn’t describe the abuse in enough detail. If only they knew how much I struggled between telling the totality of my story with enough detail to convey the horror and telling too much detail, thereby feeding abuse sadists. One has to wonder of the mind who can’t get enough abuse detail. So I chose to consider triggers as best as I could and make that my focus. If it’s details you want, read my blog. Listen to my poetry. There are all kinds of details. Fall down my rabbit hole. Wait for the sequel. There’s much more to come.
This edit is going very well. I’ve rewritten so many times, my emotions have deeply cleansed in regards to early childhood trauma. Now they are focused on the sequel, and my war with Mother. Ah, she is a haunting ghost, but with my emotional focus elsewhere, I am able to stay in technical edit mode.
This journey of independent authoring is an empowering process. I am more focused and writing with ease then ever before. Hyper-sensitive and aware, I dig and dig into the maze of me.
Is it really necessary for me to leave the house more than once a week?