So I’m editing a YA novel I’ve been working on since the first flea circus* and I had one of those “How did I miss this?”moments, in which I did the same stupid thing bad horror movies have done since Muybridge invented the zoopraxiscope.** My protagonist is attacked my a ghost in the middle of the night and sleeps in the same room the very next night, anyway. She is not an idiot. She would never ever do that. And yet, she did. At least she used to. And that, my friends, is why there’s no such thing as a completed manuscript.
*That would be 1578 according to Wikipedia, which is never wrong.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flea_circus
**I have no idea what this is either, so don’t feel bad.