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Every year, writers go on retreats for that extra dose of solitude and silence that finishing a book needs. I tell myself every year that I’m lucky not to have to shell out extra money and leave my house; I haven’t got kids, my pets don’t need to be fed more than once a week (gotta love reptiles) and we have a pretty quiet little street. Now I’m jealous I never went. The Sunday Book Review this week has a rather wry little essay about what people do on these little jaunts. Affairs? Rivalries? Writing the best novels of your life? Maybe I need to leave the state to finish this edit… Or, probably not.
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It sounds like you get more solitude at home. Maybe you should go on a retreat someday as a source of material… But that won’t help with editing.
No, but doesn’t it sound like it’s the stuff of novels???