Like a fine wine or a busty microbrew, a good novel should ferment.

That’s what On The Sly is doing right now. I’ve finished the fourth draft (it takes as many drafts as it takes, sorry), and now it’s just sitting there, waiting for me to forget all my little thoughts about it. All my hopes and despairs. It ferments so I can look at it with fresh eyes.

We often get so wrapped up in what we want our book to say, that we think it actually says that. We don’t notice where it falls short.

When I go back to it in a few weeks, I’ll be able to read it more objectively. I’ll come up with new ideas. And I’ll be able to more clearly see what it still needs. But for now, it ferments.

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