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Falaise, phase 3

Modifié le : 2019/07/18

I spent the whole week revis­ing the nov­el. This text is like crois­sant dough. It is stretched, flat­tened, added but­ter, fold­ed. Every­thing becomes uni­form and, in the end, we hope that it will swell, will be appetizing.

My edi­tor’s cor­rec­tions were so rig­or­ous that there were severe cuts here and there. I accept­ed all the cor­rec­tions not­ed in the word pro­cess­ing soft­ware before start­ing the last read­ing myself, try­ing to ignore what I knew about the text. Thus, with­out any ref­er­ence points, with­out any mark of com­ments or cor­rec­tions, I was able to see what had become nat­ur­al, flow­ing and what, some­times, was no longer so.

The eyes and ges­tures of an exter­nal cor­rec­tor can be both effec­tive and inap­pro­pri­ate. In some places, I noticed right away that part of my breath had been tak­en away. I went back to the orig­i­nal man­u­script, under­stood, reflect­ed, decid­ed if I accept­ed or refused.

This work was painful, not for my own self-esteem, but because I am begin­ning to have trou­ble appre­ci­at­ing what I have writ­ten. The deliv­ery of this text was dif­fi­cult ; I have the impres­sion that I have been giv­ing birth by cesare­an sec­tion for two years. I no longer have the eyes, the patience to love this text. I see all my faults, my weak­ness­es and also my qualities.

Every­one will tell me that this is nor­mal. I know that too. I final­ly dropped off my pen­cil. At the very least, for this text. If all goes well, the next time I have to approve it, it will be in the form of a book ready to be sent to the print­er. Inchal­lah as an Alger­ian friend says. To the grace of all the gods.

And mean­while, autumn calms me down.

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