Scribbles & Munch

      In case you hadn't figured it out yet, I dearly want to publish a novel. I've got a lot of stories inside of me, and I want to do them justice in the written word, and then I want to share them with strangers!
      When I write it out like that, it looks kinda weird...but also accurate.
      As of today I have three full novel manuscripts. The first one I submitted to a single publisher with the full expectation of being rejected (my expectations were duly met). The second I submitted to several agents (and received no takers, which was also my expectation). The most recent work is in the middle of being edited by beta-readers--that's the zombie one you've heard me mention a few times. It is my fervent desire to have a satisfactory final version of this zombie manuscript to submit to agents by the end of this summer. That means I'll need to finish editing, research agents, write synopses, and compose cover letters. All in the next 14 weeks. So in the hopes of making this happen, I am going to completely ignore the manuscript for a month.
      Right now some of you are going, "Huh?" And some of you are nodding your head with sage expressions of understanding.
      If this doesn't immediately make sense to you, allow me to explain. You know that movie you loved as a kid, and you watched so many times you could recite it from beginning to ending?* Then you didn't watch it for years. Later, in adulthood, nostalgia pulled you back to that film, and in watching it anew you went, "Wow...I didn't remember that line/scene/joke/bit at all!" And now this new perspective has forever changed the way you think of that movie.

For me, that movie would be "The Music Man." After the better part of a decade without a viewing, I recently watched it afresh, and all of a sudden I realized I'd misunderstood some words in the songs. That, and I finally got the marbles/marshmallow gag in the library.

      The same phenomena applies in writing. When you create every word of a tale, it becomes a distinct vision inside your head, and when you work on it over and over that vision becomes deeply intrenched--just like your beloved movie. It's not until you take a long enough break to let some of that vision fade that you're able to come back with clear eyes and edit the damn thing properly.
      I'm not alone in this. In his semi-autobiographical masterpiece, "On Writing," Stephen King declares he quite deliberately takes breaks of several weeks from each new manuscript he writes. Only last week I read that section and a lightbulb of deja-vu blinked on in my head.** "Oh yeah, I used to do that!" In the past (when my drive was primarily to write rather than publish), this time away from a story was natural for me; it was an organic process as I shifted from one tale of interest to another.*** But my new focus on the reality of publishing had rather banished the idea from my head, and a more "time is of the essence" attitude took hold.

Even as I write this blog post instead of working on a novel, I seem to hear the admonishment, "Tempus Fugit," delivered in Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn's deliciously distinct tones. To which I reply, "Not one poop out of you, Madam!"

      But I don't just want to write a book, I want to write a good book. So taking the necessary time and giving myself every advantage in editing is a luxury I will force myself to accept. And in the meantime, I intend to take King's other advice, and focus on a different project. Namely: my first manuscript. It's long, and complicated, and frankly I love the thing. I haven't so much as peeked at it for over a year, so I'm looking forward to going back with fresh eyes and seeing what I've really got. Who knows, maybe I'll decide it's closer to being ready than my more recent project, and try to get that one out to agents this year. Or maybe I'll decide to scrap it. Or maybe I'll get inspired to do something else entirely...and turn it into a musical! The possibilities are endless.





*And probably tried to do, on more than one occasion, most likely during long car trips, which resulted in one or more of your parents accessing the hotel bar?

**To muddle my phraseology just a tad.

***The result of this frequent shifting is 118 incomplete manuscripts (at last count), ranging from twelve to over two hundred pages in length. Apparently, I have commitment issues.