Polish

By which, to be clear, I mean the stuff you use on furniture, and not the inhabitants of Poland.

I write rather quickly. The new Children of the Tuatha De Danann book took ten days. Around 10,000 words a day. I then spend at least as much time removing typos, fixing places where Word knew best, correcting places where I got over-excited and missed articles and prepositions, and sundry other assorted problems which beset any fat-fingered typist. During which time things get read through six or seven times. Luckily I read quickly too.

During that process there is some polishing. Phrases that sounded wrong, continuity errors, missing explanations, that sort of thing. But the idea of spending years obsessing over every word until it is just so is not me. First, because these are adventures which do not have a literary importance. But secondly because I think that ends up feeling unnatural. People frequently start sentences and lose their way. They digress, they interrupt themselves, and that makes them human (or alien if applicable).

Perhaps I kid myself and this is a cunning excuse to save me endless revisions. But I truly believe things can be over-polished. And I'd rather err on the other side of that.

Which doesn't mean I'm not open to criticisms and things do get re-written because my focus-group comes back with "He would never have said it like that". Or "There is too big a leap from here to there, please fill in the blanks". Or even "She wouldn't wear that colour with her complexion" which I have to take seriously because, after all is said and done, I'm only a man.