manuscript

June 27, 2024

Renewed-Reinvigorated Revisions

It occurred to me the other day why, in the previous attempts to edit my novel, why I would stop at (around) the same place every time. I had assumed it was because of the monumental task of working out the logistics of one of my bigger plot twists. Yet, in one of my pursuits over the last 14 years I HAD gotten them squared. So, that was no longer a factor. Now I was just left with writing the chapters. For wanting to be a writer and loving it when I do in fact write, I certainly was terrified of that undertaking.

It is here where I thought was the crux of my problem. The resolution, obviously, being that I just needed to push forward and put thoughts to words. Simple enough, right?

This time I have done just that. In doing so, I have found myself becoming so invested in the process of writing that the time has literally slipped away from me. It’s been truly incredible. It’s as though I picked up “the writer me” I left in high school.

Feeling so energized, I have started looking to the future when it’s completed. How will I go about putting this into the world?

Here is where I discovered the true culprit of my fears rested. The fear that caused me to cease any effort into editing my manuscript.

The other night I was bored and wanted to watch some television. However there is a drought in original content so instead I scrolled over to YouTube and looked up “how to write a query letter.” Listening to these young ladies talk about the process caused me so much anxiety. I have no clue how to boil my plot down into four measly sentences. Overcome with immense dread, I stopped midway through the second tutorial.

The next day I had the hardest time committing my attention to writing. Instead I actually worked, can you imagine such a thing?! I could feel myself slipping away from my project. Like every time before.

I took the day to relax and that evening was recounting these same details to my brother (formerly brother-husband).

“I’m at the point in my book when I give up,” I had said.

In a moment of pure inspiration it dawned on me. Every prior effort, I was so enthusiastic about my progress I would start looking ahead to when it’s completed and ready to find an agent. The process of which I find absolutely daunting and truly terrifying. Like most people, I don’t handle rejection very well. And in that journey I have to remain strong in the face of potential repeated rejections until I get a yes. With that impending fear marinating in my brain, I stop myself. I stop writing entirely. Instead I resign myself to “wanting” to be a writer instead. Scratching the itch, periodically, with my online blogging.

With this crystal clear, it finally occurred to me that I need to not do that at all. (I mean… really.) At least, not while I am deep in the midst of such a monumental undertaking. Or… what has become my mantra through all things husband related “We’re not there yet.”

What bothers me is that took me so long to understand. How had I been so blind before? I guess I was weaker then, and gave in too easily to my fears.

Then the second piece of knowledge came to me: this time IS genuinely different.

After I had forced my polycule to endure my rough draft on a road trip to Salt Lake City (don’t ask), my husband told me, “Your story is really good, Dear.”

This was one of the only compliments he had ever given me. Not because he didn’t believe I was a good writer, but that this was the first time he had ever actually experienced my novel. Sure he had read everyone of my blogs, and had listened to my short story competition entries… But this had been something I had tried time and time again to do but failed because I didn’t believe in it or myself. His compliment, as small as it was in the moment, has meant so much to me now.

Whenever I begin to doubt myself I just repeat that moment in my mind. I’m once again renewed and I keep going.

When I become discouraged by the time this has taken me to edit, the years wasted, I tell myself that a lot of what is in the book now (that was never in the original draft) only came about because of my experiences over these lived experiences.

March 22, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 10 – Cosmic Love

Today is going to be a gauntlet. I am now two weeks behind and I don’t want to give up on my goal. So, I shall attempt at writing the last two weeks and get a jump on the third. Let’s see if I can actually do it without losing my ambition. (Spoiler alert: I probably will.)

It finally happened, I came across a soundtrack that does not exist in Spotify. I was going to choose the musical score from “The Horse Whisperer” by Thomas Newman, but all they had available were these cheap covers (of a single song) that sounded as though someone had composed them from a computer program. They lacked the enchantment that comes with the live recording. So… that plan has been scrapped. Instead I chose “Cosmic Love” by Florence + the Machine.

I first heard this beauty in a TV spot for the film “Like Water for Elephants.” I was immediately captivated by it. And, good song choice by the one who edited the trailer, because it drew me to watch the movie. However that was the only good thing about the film.

I don’t know what it is about a song with a heavy percussion, but it just fills me with this intense joy. In this particular ballad it’s amazing because the lyrics tell of a star-crossed love, and the drums are reminiscent of a heart racing from the very thought. It also gives this mythic/fairy-tale/other-worldly vibe that I felt ironically captured the essence of my novel.

I don’t know if other writers do this, but I have a “soundtrack” of songs that fit into the frame/theme of my novel. The story told in “Cosmic Love” accompanies my narrative in this coincidental symmetry.

I wrote my first novel length work of fiction in 2009 during my first ever NaNoWriMo. Since then I have attempted to edit the fuck out of it. Every now and then I get a second wind and start the process all over. I get about halfway through and start to believe the inner voice that “I am shit at writing” and then I stop. And the number of times this has happened with this particular work in progress is uncountable.

The thought of giving up has crossed my mind many times, but I just love the story. I have it plotted out for a series of four books. The second has already been written, but I haven’t even touched that one since I began editing the first. I wanted to polish this bad boy up to a glimmering shine before I dove into it’s sequel. Which is good, because since I completed the second book the tone and overall narrative of the story has changed. For the better, I hope.

During one of my bouts of renewed vigor for editing, I got this wild itch to drive from the Central Valley of California to Salt Lake City. No idea why. The urge struck and I answered the call. My little polycule piled into the car and we drove straight through.

With this captive audience I had the boys listen to my story.

What I learned is that I am very proud of my tale. I also discovered that because of my constant restarting my front half is very well completed but the back half is lacking the glimmer of the first. Overall the story is tight and I need to stop being such a bitch about it. At this point I have to write out two full chapters and continue threads I started in the first half.

The other event that occurred during our Literary Adventure was my husband bestowing a compliment upon me. One I will never forget. He told me I was a good writer. Now… he either said this because he’s dying and he has nothing left to lose, or he said it because it is how he genuinely feels. Knowing my husband… he doesn’t dole out positive feedback unless he genuinely believes it. Hearing that made me sublimely happy.

However… What fuel I received from that trip was wasted. Life once again became overwhelming and I lost my passion. It’s much of what happened with this year long endeavor. Everything just becomes a little too much at times. Even if it is a small inconvenience. Trying to accomplish a task that isn’t absolutely necessary falls to the wayside.

September 8, 2021

Into the Unknown

I can feel it in my chest. It is this deep, assuring sensation that it is time to peddle my novel. The world is calling me for it, and I know I must answer.

On December 9th, 2021 it will be 12 years since I finished my first NaNoWriMo and completed my first ever novel length work of fiction. If you have done NaNoWriMo before you will note that it is 9 days after the completion of the month long contest, to write 1,667 words a day for the entire month of November. And you are correct, but these were 9 extra days it took to actually wrap up the narrative. And I have spent the time since then editing this bitch.

Part of that is due to my need for perfection and my inability to see my talent and skill. I truly, truly am my worst critic. It’s weird how no one wants to see me fail more so than myself. I’m hellbent on it. And I have wasted these past years himming-and-hawing about whether it was good enough. Well, after a long car ride, and captive audience, I realized it is.

I don’t remember if I wrote about me and the polycule’s impromptu trip to Salt Lake City… Regardless, during this time I tasked the BF to read aloud my story for myself, the husband, and the brother-husband. May I make a suggestion that any writer should ABSOLUTELY do this. It accomplished two things. One, I got a test audience for feedback and overall commentary about the story; in real-time no less. Two, I got to get outside of my own head to hear how it sounded. The second one was the best thing I could have experienced. For so long I have sat there, nitpicking prose, punctuation, plot, that I get so lost in the logistics that I forget about the whole purpose of writing a story: to be entertained. I found myself smiling and laughing at my own words. That is insane. Either it’s good or I am just a narcissist who enjoys his ability. (Probably a combination of the two.)

Well, a road has been placed before me in the terms of an unpublished manuscript competition. For an entry fee of $65 I can submit my first few pages and a brief synopsis of my novel for consideration. If it’s chosen it’ll be placed in front of people who could potentially jumpstart my career. Now, will I place? If my past writing competitions have shown me anything, it is a firm NO. Will I find an agent or even sell it? Again, most likely no. Should I still do it? Yes.

One of the things that has been repeated to me frequently is that we will regret all opportunities not taken. So, I need to do this.

February 14, 2019

Better Together

I had never been one to believe in writers’ groups. The couple times I had attempted they were too awkward and uncomfortable for me to do on a regular basis and I always ended up leaving them for one reason or another. Little did I know that it was because of passing on these opportunities that I ultimately floundered.

I completed my first real novel length work of fiction in 2009. Since then I have attempted multiple times to edit the beast, but with no success. I would get to a certain point and stop because I would listen to the inner critic telling myself “this is terrible” and “I’m a horrible writer.” When you’re working on art with an analytical approach the artist gets upset. And when you’re more of a creator than an editor it gets overwhelming.

What I have since discovered is that having someone or a community to bounce your art off of really helps with the process.

I met my buddy Matt through a former friend of ours. This previous friend used to be Matt’s writing partner but for reasons they have since parted ways. Luckily for Matt and I, we have since gotten together to talk about our projects.

Matt’s passion for the written word is contagious. The past few times we’ve met up to discuss the craft I have left our sessions feeling so energized and overwhelmed with confidence. He and I wax poetic about the other’s pieces, but also offer advice and critique when needed. He is stronger in some aspects that I still need a little polish and vice versa. Together we are helping the other through it. Plus having him (other than myself) excited about my ideas is the best high. (I’ve never done a single drug though, for any kind of comparison.)

From these get-togethers I finally understand why so many books on writing recommend participating in a writers’ group. Working alone gets exhausting, and when it’s just you and your own viewpoint on your manuscript it can get incredibly negative very fast. And I should know, it’s been that way every time I’ve worked on my book before.

When one has a supportive place to share his techniques and ideas it really keeps the fire burning. And my fire can only stay burning for so long without adding some potent fuel.