For the past couple of months I've been spending my stolen moments taking to Buried Alive with a dagger possessed by the soul of a reaper. The result has been a lot of blood, torn pages and creepy smiles.
Taking a year away from the manuscript has given me a new perspective on my work. Every time I tried to force myself to re-read it, I knew deep down I couldn't look at it objectively. I was too stuck in the focus character's motivations to step back and critique the entirety of the story.
Now the time is right. I'm excited for this destruction as I can now see the pieces that were broken, cutting my eyes as I ran over them time and time again like a sadistic beast. No more.
The hard copy I'm working with is looking rather dishevelled after being carried in my bag every day so I can work on it whenever I get a chance. I have a long way to go. Some days I wonder if I'll ever be finished. I live in hope the story will tell me when it's had enough of my brutality.
In the meantime I will enjoy the roller coaster of emotions that come with the process.
Mad Love
Alysha
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