Oh, the first look at a first draft.
And then the work begins.
For me, before anything else happens, the finished novel has to go from bytes to book. I typically send the manuscript (set up for reading - my writing setup is a whole different story, but isn't conducive to reading on a page) to Kinkos for printing and binding. When I was younger and (relatively) flush, I went for more expensive options. Now I tend to conserve a bit: a few hundred pages of printing costs is quite pricy enough.
There's nothing quite like holding the book in my hands, even if it isn't anywhere close to a final form.
Next, the readthrough. This is to get a big picture view of what's on the page - not what I think is on the page. I try not to make any editing notes at this point, though I might jot down something that stands out ... or in the case of Scylla and Charybdis, I created an outline of the scenes and their purpose. I ended up deciding everything needed to be there, unfortunately for the final length of that one.
Then, the markup. I start reading again with pen in hand, marking omissions, tweaks, question marks - there are always a couple places in a manuscript where I simply end up writing "Huh?" - wording that needs to change ... all the good stuff.
Then, the actual input. Now, for those of you who don't know, I hate handwriting. Hate hate hate it. Extended handwriting is physically painful for me. (I actually have an ocular motor dysfunction - the "bridge" between my eyes and hands is out - and learning to handwrite was a struggle for me. I ended up coming up with my own method of holding a pen/pencil that tends to make people stare. Which is why I panicked when my pastry instructor told us to hold a pastry bag "like we hold a pencil" ... but I digress.)
So the upshot of this tale of woe is that my handwritten notes tend to be very sparse, and sometimes when I come back to them, I'll have no idea what I meant in the first place. At first, I used to think this was a problem with my process. I came to realize it was a feature. (Like any good bug: maybe I should have been a programmer.) Having to translate myself causes to consider the issue a second time. Maybe I decide to do something different; maybe I decide the change wasn't needed after all. I tend to refer to this process as "1.5 editing passes."
And then the work begins ...