I have reached the magic number 48 for my poetry manuscript. Honestly, it wasn't hard. I have never had any problem in reaching the minimum words/page limit. What I struggle with is, keeping to it. I now have 64 pages of poems. But I am not done. I know I am not. I haven't exhausted myself writing. I have barely laid out the bones. A lot more needs to be done. Feeling the bone with flesh, blood, wrapping the organs up in skin. I don't want to leave anything untouched. Who knows what future has in store! Maybe this is the only book I have in me! That's why, I know I need to give it everything I have, exhaust myself.
I agree the temptation to turn in the work the way it stands now is great. And who knows, there are so many publishers in this English-speaking world. Someone might like it. But that's not the point. I am not done with it yet. That is what matters for me. I have made some progress in the last ten weeks, and I value that progress. That progress, however, does not mean that I am done.
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