I would really appreciate it if you would laugh at what I'm about to say: I'm not going to work on my second book (right now). Did you laugh yet? A fake laugh? A tortured laugh? Probably not.
I guess its just funny to me. Or at least I'm trying to make it funny.
So, as I explained before, I got sick of editing. I thought editing was the dirty little chore that followed writing and could never match up to its dreamy romance.
Then, as I was working on what would have been my second book, I thought ugh writing is so hard! I can't wait til I can just revise! Well, I can revise. In fact, I should revise. My first book is pretty good, and there's a lot that can be done to make it great.
The moral of the story is don't give up. I refuse to be the person that has a room full of unfinished books. Those are the worst people in the world! Revising is a form of writing. I'm going to attempt to convince myself of that over the next few months.
p.s. I've been speaking to someone in Spanish for an hour and drinking the best cup of coffee of my life.