I worked nonstop this weekend and made all the edits to the book suggested by the editor person. In a little while I’ll print out the revised fourth draft. Because of the brief turnaround time it doesn’t feel like a full revision cycle, so I’m calling this go round the fourth draft, version two. Tonight I’ll drop the pages off at the editor person’s place and hope for the best. They promised a one week turnaround. That means I have some dead time, so I’ll probably add some more content to the site and finish up the outline for the second book. And blog.
I’m very happy about the last round of changes. At the same time, I’m well, terrified. This is almost it with the edits, showtime is coming fast. I gotta get ready to let my baby fly out there and mingle amongst the wolves. My love affair with the possibilities of what the book could be, must end. Whatever it is next week, is how it is. I have to move on to the next step.
The possibility of rejection is starting to feel pretty real. It’s on the horizon. When it comes down to it, writing a book is one of the few things you can do with such megalomaniacal overtones. The bet the writer makes is that someone will care about their book, but until they submit it and find out, they’re a minority of one. It’s a pretty isolating feeling. Really isolating. Still something pushes the writer to submit. What else could that be but some latent streak of megalomania or masochism? Of course they want my book! Yes, my chances of success are 100 percent. Law of averages? Doesn’t apply to me. I’m exempt you see. So like every writer who has ever tried to sell a book probably has done, I too must reassure myself. Anyway, I need to get my daily dose of caffeine…

Saturday afternoon I started on the edits, implementing this round of revisions and it brought me back to a recurring question I’ve had through this entire process of writing the book. How do the big time authors handle rewriting? Do they do their own revisions? Is there a round table deal between them and the editor, where they toss ideas back and forth? Are screaming matches involved when they have opposing opinions? Who pays for lunch? The editor person tells me it’s a little bit of all three, and lunch is up for grabs.

At the start of this, I didn’t like rewriting very much at all. Yeah, I knew there were issues with the book. In the state it was unreadable, and by extension, unsellable. I could be wrong, but my high level assessment of the first and second drafts were; good idea, absolutely miserable execution. There were serious structural problems that needed addressing. The longer I looked at it the worse it seemed. There were more things wrong than there were things right. Where should I begin? Should I begin at all? Perhaps there were irreconcilable differences between myself and the manuscript. Could I sue for divorce?

There was a point I was convinced that the sum of the problems were so severe, that it was better to forget about the book altogether. I thought about lighting the manuscript up and chucking the whole thing in the nearest river. Play a little Mahler on a portable turntable while I fired up the pages at the shore of the Navesink, then chuck six months of my life into the murky, muddy water. Drinking as a hobby started to look like a good idea.

Instead of going Hemingway, I decided I needed to give myself a little time away from the problem and write something else. I put the draft aside and wrote a screenplay with the proviso that it must have nothing to do with the book whatsoever. I’ll blog about that whole experience sometime. Writing that screenplay gave me some perspective on the novel, and got my mind off the overwhelming task waiting for me. And it gave me time. I needed time to make a decision. Should I be using my time to write? Was writing even something I was any good at?

Somehow from the moment I sat down, everything about that screenplay just clicked. The best way I can think of to describe it is that it was like I was watching the movie, and was writing down the scenes as I saw them play before me. I wrote it in 21 days, 23 if you count the outline and character sketches. By the end I was smiling again and I had a screenplay. I had solid characters and real conflict that crackled on the page. And I was ready to battle the novel again. I wanted to rewrite, and was ready to make it work.

So maybe the answer to many of my writing problems, like not liking to revise, is just more writing. Even if it’s writing about things that aren’t driving me crazy. And when I get stuck, it’s OK to to give myself time to think them through.