Today I finished the full rewrite of my first novel. This is the fourth (that would be 4th) version of the story I started a lifetime or two ago. When I embarked on it, I thought I’d be done in four months. That became nearly twelve months. I had to learn to think in terms of book-length and stop thinking of short form.
Then I had to learn to edit as I went. I’ve talked about that in this blog, so I’ll move on. Then I had to suffer sending it to my first editor and then wait. I’m not a patient person. That taxed my ability to wait to the breaking point and beyond several times over. No word from the editor till they were done. It was excruciatingly horrendous. I did learn that things take the time they will take.
Sunday afternoon, this afternoon, I finished condensing my novel from 94,000 words to 76,000 words. That was a chore I did not expect. I learned from the effort and remained focused on achieving the complete rewrite, adding Helen’s point of view. That, as it turns out, was easier than I thought, and it brought a new dimension to the story that I really liked.
I put the last portion of the manuscript into an email. I hit send. And went out to celebrate.
Then my mind had nothing to work on. Something that for me spells trouble with a capital “T”. My mind starts asking questions I cannot answer. Is it good? Did you tell the right story? Is your writing good enough? Don’t forget you got rejected once before, what makes you think this is better? These are the printable versions of what went through my mind in a never-ending loop. It was like an old record stuck in one track and skipping back to repeat.
I know this is fear from my wounded-child ego inviting the critical-parent ego out to play. It is my terminology for what Doctor Eric Berne theorized and Thomas Harris wrote in I’m OK, You’re OK back in 1969. This is called Transactional Analysis and it has been a boon to many who suffer from depression. The fear of being rejected scared the wounded-child ego, and the critical-parent decided that it was time to run the same old program through my brain.
Until you send your book out, you are in control. The adult ego reminds you, and the other ego states that all is well. Then comes the day when you cross the finish line, or have you? If you are going to send it to an editor, there is still a lot of work to be done. They – by doing exactly what you’ve asked them to do – are going to be professionally critical of your work. Let’s face it, if not, they are not doing their job.
Ah, but there’s the rub, isn’t it? You are taking your newborn baby, after weeks or months of labor, and you are sending it off to be criticized.
Oh. My. God!!! What the hell are you doing that for? You are going to send your precious little literary baby – in all its beauty and warts – to someone to… to… (Oh, I can’t say it!!!) to improve it? No, no. No! No one gets to criticize my baby, only my critical-parent ego gets to do that! To quote Craig Johnson’s Walt Longmire’s favorite saying, “boy howdy!” Or my own: “What the hell did you do that for?”
That’s how I feel as I write this, and probably going to feel whenever I think of this book. I know who I am, and I know exactly what makes me vulnerable, and worse I know that I want to be a writer. It will all come along for the ride. This will continue till I can get the Adult ego to tell the rest: It’s OK – this is part of the process.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Am I the only one that goes through that in the writing community?
Do you have similar stories to share? I’d be grateful to know I’m not the only one that goes through this.
I think when a writer is done with her story she often doesn’t realize it. For me, I had to get over the angst of sending my stories out by endless editing. While I suppose I still feel it, I try to act just cold enough to my own babies to pretend I’m okay with sending them out into the world. A few sips of wine and I can get back to pen and paper. The only way for me to not think stressful thoughts about my last baby is to get busy on the next one. Which we all know is easier said than done!