I've spent a great deal of time in The Writing Cave and it's paid off. Sunday night I finished* a major reconstructive surgery-style revision of WAITING FOR THE SUN. Not only was that manuscript written out of order, I'd completely skipped writing many scenes but had mentioned those events in other scenes. It was a mess. A MESS, I tell you.

Now it is in order and in the hands of a few trusted CPs/beta readers. And it's all I can do to not open the document and revise once again. I've jotted down a few notes and am certain that I won't be able to wait until I get the feedback returned to me before diving in again.

I thought I would give you a brief tour of The Writing Cave, which, let me tell you, isn't all fun and games.

The Writing Cave is more like a sick, twisted Amusement Park that looks fun from the outside but will terrorize you once you've entered its gates. The Writing Cave's hours of operation are fairly limited: either very early in the morning or late in the evening. Lately the Cave has offered extended hours on evenings and weekends -- we're talking until 2 am.

The Writing Cave features the ever-popular Emotional Rollercoaster and anyone can ride it, no matter how tall. You must, however, be sleep-deprived and in a sort-of "fictional dream" haze, because really? why would anyone in their right mind ride this ancient, rickety, old-fashioned emo rollercoaster? Every little thing made me cry last week and this week I'm still suffering aftershocks.

Just beyond the Emotional Rollercoaster is the House of Mirrors. That's right, because we all know that writers suffer from serious delusions. For example, just when you think you can safely say you're finished revising Chapter 46, suddenly you see the chapter elongated with two heads, one on the top and one on the bottom. What you thought was lovely and touching and perfect is something out of your worst nightmare. Or is it? The damn house of mirrors plays with your head.

Clowns. Did I mention the clowns? These are not nice clowns. These are the Stephen King It-type clowns. They follow you around and snicker behind your back. They capitalize on your fears. Pssst, little girl. Hey! Little girl! You want this balloon?  Go ahead, take it. That's right. And by the way, you're afraid you'll never be published? That you've done all this hard work for nothing? You're right. Your book sucks.

I hate the clowns in The Writing Cave.

And then there's the Food Court. Terrible stuff. Frozen pizzas, hot dogs, popcorn, cereal for supper, lots and lots of Easter candy. And that's what I'm feeding my poor kids, too!

Not everything about The Writing Cave is miserable. There is an endless supply of coffee and cotton candy. The Midway (aka social media) is fun for when I need a break or a little extra support or encouragement. There are bright, twinkly lights and delightful music and beautiful gardens and ponds that offer inspiration. And who doesn't love a well-deserved turn on the Ferris Wheel at dusk holding hands with the love of your life? That's what it feels like when I've written something amazing: perfect and meant to be.

My hours spent in The Writing Cave may be terrifying at times, but in the end, I walk out of the Cave with that Ferris Wheel feeling.

I'm already planning my return trip.
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