My little turtle friend is illustrating my post today. He symbolizes the speed of editing.
(Comparatively, the speed of writing DEAD WITH ENVY seemed to go like the hare.)
As Ellen D. says, “Anyway . . .” I have finished editing Chapter Six. (Do we ever really finish editing?)
Still slogging through the re-write. Thank you for the encouragement. I love you for it.
Today the breakthrough came! I finished the first chapter of the re-write on Dead with Envy. This is huge. The dreaded writer’s block is gone! Tomorrow, I’ll finish chapter two.
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To complete a story–a novel–is a milestone. To complete editing and re-writing the novel so that it is editor-ready is monumental. Just ask me.
I thought it was difficult translating an idea in my mind to words on paper for the first rough draft. Turns out, that part feels like child’s play compared to the re-write.
There is a lot of self-doubt, second-guessing and anxiety that goes along with the actual editorial work. The whole time I am working, I am asking myself if the story passes muster. Will there be an audience for the book? Will the persons I wrote for be the actual persons who like and read the novel?
Today I learned that traditional publishers tell authors that a new book has a shelf-life of three months in which the story either makes it or breaks it. After hours and hours of work, three months is it?
At this moment, three words come to mind: just shoot me.
What we write about when we write.
Please, please take the time to read this wonderful article (click the link above). It explores the agony of creation, the search for the perfect telling of the story, the revisiting of person, place and thing for the sake of getting it right.
Once I concluded my reading of it, I was revived to write. I realized that the wall I am hitting in my work is simply a part of the greater process. Now I embrace the wall, wrapping my arms around it, pressing my chest against its coolness, smelling the stale scents trapped in the paint. By entangling my essence with what stops my writing, I change both the obstacle and my response to it.
A few days ago, I finished rewriting on my contributions to The Writers of the Desert Rose Cafe Anthology. I sent my revisions to the members who collate the contributions into the final manuscript. The volume will be turned over to Acorn Book Services for formatting and uploading to the marketplace for e-books. (Hopefully in December.)
I received a couple of specific criticisms from the publisher on two of my pieces. However, I revised almost every story, including my biographical paragraph.
After re-reading the pieces multiple times, I wanted to yank out several of my entries because now I hate them. I don’t want them published under my name. They aren’t perfect. They aren’t mature. They bore me. Some are pablum. Pablum suggests simplistic writing.
I tell myself. “This is a first effort, so the stench of the amateur shouldn’t surprise anyone.” That’s my scared self speaking.
I’m delighted that the editor suggested changes to improve stories. Consequently, there are two or three pieces I think deliver entertainment for the reader. Satisfactorily. Worth the price of admission. Maybe leaving the reader curious about what comes next from this author.
And I grew. As an author. As a wordsmith. As a human being. As an experimenter.
Striving to make something excellent is good, to a point. Sometimes a writer rewrites and rewrites, seeking perfection in a piece. But there does come a time to stop: stop reworking, stop criticizing, stop touching up. At that point, it’s time to publish and let the chips fall where they may. It’s time to face the music.
Am I ready for the commercial press? Book buyers will vote. Readers will tell me.
If my collection of work is a screw up, I hope a reader is brave enough to spell out specifics for me, not just the critique “I don’t like it.” It’s the “I don’t like it because. . .” that helps me improve the next time.
. . . and something will stick.
I used that quotation in yesterday’s response to Rarasaur. Immediately, I knew I had to share a motivational thought with you.
Having several irons in the fire can be a good thing, providing you are continually working to complete the projects. Eventually, you will finish a project, then another, then another. As a writer, this means that you will end up with several salable items.
This tactic only works for folks like me whose brains like to jump from one thing to another to avoid boredom. It won’t work for those who start things, but never finish them. You have to finish the projects. It’s finishing them that brings a pay day.
Rarasaur has a good method. She has a list and a concrete goal for each item listed; for example, creating one idea a day for thirty days for a book project. At the end of a month, she will have thirty possibilities to consider for her next writing project. Of the thirty on her list, one is bound to seize her imagination.
You may want to try the “many irons” approach to see if it works for you. The key to success is devising your own method to complete the projects on your list.
Fay Moore: I Want To Be a Writer 