It’s Monday again.

Or on this side of the world, it’s actually Tuesday morning.

Very, very early in fact.

Very cold too, which is strange for a city near the tropics.

I survived another week, still contemplating the job of working on the next edit of my sixth novel.  You’d think it was easy by now, routine.

Outline the story.

Write the chapters.

Bundle it all up and let it stew in the back of your mind.

Come back and do the first edit, find all the grammatical errors, fix holes in the plot, make sure the sub plots don’t take over, or minor characters steal the limelight.

Or, as in this case, after the seventh, yes, you heard right, the seventh edit, I decided there was a big hole and had to fill it.

If it was a murder mystery, it would be a body.

I was missing character motivation.  The main character was drifting, much like I am, and I realized there was a little of my circumstances coming across to the story.

Cut, slash, burn.

OK, wrote the new part and I’m happy with it now.

All I have to do is make sure there is sufficient hooks in the earlier part to make it seem like a natural progression.

Piece of cake.

I’ll start first thing tomorrow.

Perhaps I might be better off selling used cars!

Maybe not.

I think I’ll stick to writing.