Here we are, at the beginning of the most fun stage in publishing a story.
Of course I am joking. Most of us hate editing our own work. I fall somewhere in the middle, experiencing a love-hate relationship with this part of the process. Not much more increases your confidence and optimism about your writing capabilities than staring upon the white sheet of paper holding the black glob of nonsense you once thought, not too long ago, was sheer brilliance.
This is why teaching writing nearly drove me mad. Those preteen voices saying, "Done!" after five minutes of editing their own work.
"You finished?" I would ask.
"Yep. Looks good. Can't find a single thing wrong with it."
Sometimes I miss that innocent ignorance.
So, here I am, on the third day of editing (first go through--there will be more) and I am two pages in. That's right. Two pages. On a brighter note, I did add a page. Felt the introduction for one of the short stories moved too quickly. I think the pacing is better now.
Madness on Paper. Wouldn't have it any other way.