All hail Katie. I sent her the first 50 pages from this latest draft and she unlocked it. She asked exactly the right question to get to the root of why it’s not quite there yet, not quite measuring up to the book in my head. That is, she asked for what’s very clear about the characters in my head that isn’t making it on to the page. This is great, because when that question is answered in the text, the book will be much stronger. This sucks, because it is going to be deep-digging, muddy, bloody, scary work to get that question answered. I’m more than a bit terrified that I’m not up to the task. I woke up already in full panic attack this morning, knowing I’d be headed to the cafe to start to answer that question today. And here I am. I started it, and now I’m blogging instead and need to force myself back to it. It’s a big question. Some parts of the answer are ugly and I don’t like looking at them.
Emily called while I was walking to the cafe this morning, and she’s rather angsty about her own current novel, which was some comfort. That’s one thing I really miss about Brooklyn–being able to call another novelist friend and say, “Hey, come meet me for coffee. I’m freaking out.” Of course, Emily isn’t in Brooklyn anymore anyway. Though who am I kidding? Even before we left, I couldn’t make that call as easily anymore. Once Thumper was born, there was no more popping out to meet Emily or Lon or Ernesto. And even before that, Ernesto became a dad and so less available. At least we still have the phone, we still have email. And as much as it can be a comfort to talk to someone else slogging through the shit of their own manuscript, I still need to sit down and do the work by myself. It’s lonely and scary even if Ernesto is across the table, banging away at his own laptop.
My therapist said my anxiety would never completely go away, nor would my tendency to obsess, because these are parts of my personality that make me good at what I do. So here I am, anxious and obsessing. And now, back to work. Pass the Rescue Remedy.
cheering you on!
Might I suggest that you redirect the energy you are spending on the blog for the time being and put it into your revisions?
One of the differences I find among writers is whether or not they need or desire the companionship of other writers. I am in the do not category. In my experience, other writers are the worst companions to have when one is working. It seems to me that other writers are more often than not going to tell you what they are actually telling themselves, which means, they are telling you what they would do, not what you should do.
I do enjoy social distractions and that kind of companionship, but I prefer that these companions not be writers. Other artists are fine, just not my art.
Different strokes … yes?
I’m glad my questions were helpful and not just annoying. And you are totally up to the work–it will get done. I wonder if it feels overwhelming because we think about wholesale change to the novel–what the novel will be–but the change and work takes place in tiny increments every time we write or think about it. And even when we’re not thinking about it consciously. Does that make sense? Like we know we need to empty an olympic size pool with a teaspoon measure…
And I think it is OK to stop in here and say “GACK! MY HEAD IS ON FIRE!” or whatever it is you need to say. That’s what I do too. So it must be OK, right?
I miss my weekly meetings with Ernesto. And I do wish you could come have coffee with me, yes.
Your post makes me chuckle because this is what I aspire to. Your plight, however – much sympathy. Self doubt is a difficult devil indeed.
Oh my. I certainly hope to read your published work some day. Keep it up and hang in there!
Pray tell, what was the right question?