Unfinished
June 20th, 2007 by Marsha Moyer
I recently wrote two posts called “Finished” and “Finished, Part 2” about my feelings after submitting the manuscript of my fourth book to my publisher. As you may have surmised from the title of this week’s post, I’m back at the drawing board. Having talked to my editor on the phone on Friday and subsequently receiving her chapter notes via email, I’ve got three weeks to make revisions to my manuscript in order to meet the publisher’s goal of getting the book out next spring.
It’s a daunting task. Many of the things that are need fixing are significant, including (interestingly, in light of Jason’s post of 6/18) an unlikable protagonist—or at least one who’s motivations aren’t clear—and a pervading sense of sadness where there should be “more joy.” I’d like to write about the lack of joy I feel while sitting down to face these revisions, or how weird it is to be struggling with my fourth manuscript the week before my third book is released to modest acclaim, but I can’t. If I give in to those impulses, I’ll never get my work done, and self-indulgence is a luxury I can’t presently afford.
In The Courage to Write, Ralph Keyes says, “Fear does concentrate the mind wonderfully.” But for me, fear turns the mind blank, keeps me sleepless and clumsy. I chase after tangents like a cat chasing butterflies, trying to pin down anything bright that flits by. Regular meals and evenings out with friends are suspended, to say nothing of laundry and housekeeping. And the calendar seems to hang over everything like a ticking bomb. At this point, writing feels more like typing. You have to trust that your fingers are somehow connected, not to your traitorous brain, but to your imagination and your instincts.
I spoke at a writing conference last weekend, where someone remarked that mine were “good problems to have.” And I suppose, from an unpublished writer’s perspective, they are. But I hope those reading this will get a little bit of insight into the reality that being a professional writer with obligations to meet and a reputation to uphold comes with its own set of challenges. You might get a great review in a national magazine, but there’s little time to take it in before you’ve got to sit back down at the computer and wrestle with the devil.
Good problems to have? I’ll let you know after I’ve met my deadline.
I can empathize somewhat as someone who has had rewrite requests from editors. But that’s nonfic work–a different vein, a much more modest scope. It’s cardboard-box comfort when you’re looking for a roof, but I am certain you’ll work it out; you have great instincts about your characters and your story.
I wish for your sake this wasn’t overlapping the release of your 3rd novel, though. Hang in there!
I’m sending good thought vibes out your way, Marsha. Yours is a potent reminder that every book is a struggle. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that you’ll find a way to struggle through yet again. Hugs.
So…
You’re saying that having a book published will not solve all of life’s problems?
Pardon my ‘net French, but WTF?!?
Really, though, this was the post I needed to read today. Got another rejection this morning. Nice words, said the writing was good, but no, and hey, maybe for the next project. So while I’m feeling down and out, and avoiding working on another ms, I decided to check my RSSes. And there you were, talking about similar struggles and feelings. You, an author whose Lucy Hatch lives in my office, right there on the shelf!
I guess this is the life I’m signing up for with every submission, eh? The disappointments seem so many, but the high points are few. But the high points are powerful. It’s no wonder why so many writers are bipolar.
Guess all we’ve got left to do is find joy in the act of creating, since everything else about the work is so unstable.
there are no ‘good problems’ - you have a lot of testy work to do and you have the right to be unhappy about it. but it’s survivable. hang in there. permission to think it stinks granted.
Was just stewing on this topic today. Know why I hate the expression ‘pay your dues?’ Because it implies that at some point, the dues will be fully paid and you’ll be at some point where things won’t be hard anymore.
And we all know that’s B.S.
You’re never really done paying your dues. There are always more problems to tackle, and if not more in quantity then simply bigger ones.
You either chase down that challenge, run it ragged and fight it to the death the rest of your life, or it chases you down, runs you ragged, and fights you the rest of your life.
Ah… life.
Thank you all for your perceptive and sympathetic comments. They help a lot, along with a greeting card I have taped to my computer that says, “Some days it’s not even worth chewing through the restraints.” If I ever reach the point where I can’t laugh at myself I’ll know I’m really in trouble.
Onward and upward . . .
My sympathies, Marsha, I know how it feels. Keep saying to yourself, ‘in three weeks I’ll be all finished with this.’ As professionals we just grit our teeth and get on with editorial revisions, but that doesn’t make them any less painful. These days I can use hindsight and remind myself that every single time I’ve had to wrestle with an editorial report, I have ended up with a better book after doing the work.