Something strange is happening over here in Revision Land (the theme park with pens, Post-Its and paper cuts): I'm excited about the novel again.

DH made the comment last night as I babbled incoherently about combining characters and revising a scene so it added a heap of conflict in an unexpected way.

"Wow, sounds like you're having fun with it again," he said.

And he was totally right. I carry sections of the novel back and forth to the part time proofing job and sneak in edits during lunch and when the boss isn't looking. Then I take full advantage of my rides on public transit to get even more stuff done.

My kitchen table is a mass of calendar pages, newspaper clippings and an ever-decreasing pile of pages I have not scribbled all over yet.

Part of me knows this is just a passing phase and I'll soon feel like setting all of this on fire or have a shredding party. That's just the way writing is. But right at this very moment, I LOVE this piece of fiction.

I think a big part of it is that I'm now at the stuff at the end that I whipped through in order to meet the Write-On first draft deadline way back on August 1. Sections had been completely forgotten about and now I feel I'm reading them for the first time.

Oh, and some parts are so horrible I need to shred the pages so that no one ever sees them, but at least I can laugh about it. For now.

Okay, gotta get back before the muse leaves the room.