One of the worst parts of writing to me is finding a title. It should come naturally, flow from the work while at the same time be worthy enough to stand on its own.
This just plain sucks.
My final draft is very different than the directions I started in. I’d like to thank my editors John Fabros, Cyndi Christopherson, and Regina Delaurentiis for their careful screening of a shoddy first draft. Each found errors that I alone could not see, because I offer myself the same courtesy as I do most textbooks– I read until my eyes glazed over, then skimmed.
Possibly the worst thing to have been said about it was:
“Terry, are you aware that you’ve used the word ‘dark’ ten times? How about ‘within’ about eight times?”
“… I did not know.”
Basically, when you revise and edit… you rarely ever go from start to finish. And apparently some phrases sound great! So each time I would use it… I would think to myself, this is fantastic! Why haven’t I tried to use this kind of description?
… boo. I had. I just forgot.
Lesson to be learned? PROOFREAD.
“Look, Gail,” Roark got up, reached out, tore a thick branch off a tree, held it in both hands, one flat closed at each end; then, his wrists and knuckles tensed against the resistance, he bent the branch slowly into an arc. “Now I can make what I want of it: a bow, a spear, a cane, a railing. That’s the meaning of life.”
– The Fountainhead.