Made it to Moscow after a long flight that Aeroflot rescheduled–another way of saying it left late without compromising their on-time statistics. Spent most of the day sleeping and relaxing. Tonight I’m working from a dialup modem, so updates will be sparse.
But all is good.
It’s 11PM ( 23:08 ) MSK Time, and I’m off to bed.
At JFK waiting for the plane so I dropped a few ducats in the duty free shop. Meet my new son, Jack. He’s 3 liters. Excuse me for a moment. My son is on a critical mission to slim down and needs my support…
With the close of the year, comes the annual review. At the start of 2007 I decided on the following writing resolutions:
1) Enter twenty(20) fiction writing contests that pay cash prizes in excess of $300 and publication in a respected periodical, annual or magazine.
What actually happened: In February, I decided this was a bit ambitious revised this downward to two very high quality contests that paid big bucks: Nicholl’s Screenwriting Fellowship and an Exeter Fellowship. I entered both.
2) Pitch the novel ( The Last Track ) to 40 agents/editors. Roughly 1.5 individuals in the business per week. Er, Roughly 1 individuals in the business every 6 working days. Or 1 agent per week, excluding summer break.
What actually happened: Contacted 41 A-list agents. Four asked for partials. Two requested the full manuscript. From one who passed, I received a very long letter encouraging me to take the novel to the next level. Another identified four issues that needed attention. As a result of this feedback, I worked hard at revisions the agent suggested and resubmitted the project for their consideration. They are reading the novel right now.
3) Launch guerrilla marketing campaign for the novel. The details of this plan must remain under wraps because it’s the only truly original idea I’ve ever had about hawking fiction. If it works, I’ll gladly disclose the details.
What actually happened: When the feedback came back from two separate sources that the novel was close but needed a little more attention, I tabled the project, focusing on revisions instead.
4) Finish a draft of The Confession before beginning another large writing project.
What actually happened: Realized this goal in part. I did not begin a large writing project before finishing The Confession and I did work on the manuscript itself. Though I did not state this in the goal, subconsciously I had hoped I would finish a draft of The Confession in 2007. Well, that was the mistake of a vague, unstated intention.
Reviewing over these resolutions and their actual outcome suggests a few ways I can improve in 2008. First, I do better working from goals that are specific and include time lines. Where the goal is general in scope or vague in regards to delivery dates, the task is more easily deferred. Which seems to be what happened. I had substantial traction with resolution one and two, no traction at all with number three, and only partial traction with number four–a goal probably ill-defined in the first place.
The sheer number of resolutions may have been problematic as well. Three goals–hopefully very specific ones–might be more manageable than four that required a lot of new material or working with new technologies.
And there could be some benefit to goals that are complementary by design. For instance, a marketing campaign has very little to do with revising a novel that an agent might reconsider, and if I am asked for revisions, it seems my time is better spent writing versus marketing. Essentially one goal led me away from another. Perhaps re-framing the goals so working towards one naturally forces focusing on the others might reduce straying. Two goals like writing twenty hours a week and finishing a draft of The Confession are complementary.
So while in Moscow, I’ll devise goals for 2008 in common to the above three concepts: Be specific, stay manageable in number, and frame the goals so working on one resolution involves the others.
One thing the agent requested along with the revisions was a document listing the changes made to the manuscript; it’s a firm condition for further consideration. Although I had the fortitude to record the edits in the moment, a series of cuts and insertions sprinkled throughout altered the page numbering slightly. Which made the document less helpful as a reference point for the agent.
And so today I spent five hours vetting the change matrix and making sure each revision traced back to the indicated page and chapter. Right up there with watching enamel paint dry in terms of excitement. More interesting was seeing the contributions of Kerry and Oriana in the book. Ever since the last major revision, I suspected minor glitches were lurking about, but damned if I could spot them. Like cracks in a ceiling. after a certain point, the mind fools the eyes into looking around–and not at–the creases. In the end I had a table spanning eleven pages, with clean and consistent designations.
The Last Track is now two pages longer and just under 90,000 words. Getting there meant modifying about five percent of the manuscript.
Which brings me back to the entry title, which is somewhat dubious because the fear is truly a beast with a two-pronged pitchfork. So maybe “The Fears” fits better.Like for starters, did I change the right five percent? After all, that’s a lot of ink left untouched. Maybe one more scene needed a face-lift.
And of what I revised, did I, as Tim Gunn says, “Make it work.” I suppose that kind of failure is worse changing something that did not need correction. That in fact, is worse than missing the problem in the first place. But the new content might have weakened the finished product, and I’m no longer in a position to be certain about that. Too many months and years staring at the same ceiling.
Ultimately, both possibilities are largely irrelevant.
What matters is following the project through to the end. And on Sunday night when I e-mail the manuscript and table this phase is over.
. . . till Moscow
Though the table of changes that will accompany the manuscript back to the agent needs a quick pass, the edits for The Last Track are finished It’s been a long road to this point, one I never expected would take nearly four years. I have learned many lessons about writing as a craft by writing a novel, found my voice, and discovered the most effective approaches for me.
Here’s a short list of personal discoveries:
1) Short scenes—one to five pages in length best complement my style. The less acreage there for hiding, the more likely I will keep the ball rolling.
2) Almost every draft seems a lot closer to the mark immediately upon completion. Once the self-love affair wanes a bit, cracks in the narrative will show.
3) When I start hating a project because it’s dragging, it’s time for a break. Taking a step back might just mean pushing away from the keyboard for an hour, or in other cases it means working on another manuscript for a few weeks.
4) Once I realize and accept where I went wrong, it’s much easier to recognize similar dalliances in other writing projects or in the same story. And those foibles are in there. Somewhere. Much like a roach, for every gnarly insect a homeowner spots near the pantry, there are a hundred more slithering through the sheet rock.
5) Feedback is almost always positive.
6) There is a time and place for a professional proofreader: around the time the manuscript is 90 percent–or more–in the pocket. Otherwise the comments will take longer to read than the story.
Enough writing noise for one day. I gotta pack for Russia…
