My Harlequin editor has e-mailed me to say that I need to trim forty (yes, FORTY—do not adjust your screens) pages from my October book, Tender Secrets, on account of the new, reduced, word count. Oh, sure, I knew about the new word count, but I foolishly assumed it applied to books turned in after March. No dice. That’s what I get for assuming things, I suppose. And me, a former lawyer. You’d think I’d know better than assuming anything.

*Hanging head in shame*

And do you want to know the worst thing? Do you? Huh? I’d already trimmed and slashed about forty pages to get the book down to the old word count. Where’m I gonna find ANOTHER forty pages to trim? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Pray for me, okay?

So now I’m sharpening my knives and getting ready to kill my babies, which is what Stephen King calls it when you have to go in and get rid of all the extraneous, though beloved, stuff in your book. It’s for the greater good, right?

And I’m thinking maybe I can turn this lemon into some lemonade. I think maybe I’ll add a members-only page to my site for readers to see all the stuff that doesn’t make the final cut. That could be good.

This snafu has got me thinking, writers … what’s the most painful edit you’ve ever made? Do tell so I don’t feel like the only one out here suffering in the wilderness.