In case you haven’t gotten it yet, the life of a writer isn’t all bon-bons and big checks and champaign parties in New York City at the publisher’s. Between’s David’s worry about his fab urban fantasy that hasn’t yet sold, to Catie’s revelation during an impossible writing schedule, to, well, this post, I say, “It ain’t easy.”
No. It is work. And impossible schedules. And rewrites from hell.
I am in the middle of one such rewrite. The rewrite sucks so badly it makes me scream. But I know that the editor (with whom I’ve worked for a number of years and 8[?] books) is right about all her suggested changes. All 5 pages, single-spaced, changes.
And? Right now all I can think is – I am such a stupid-awful-poor writer. Why do I do these things? Why do I bother to write? I suck so bad at writing that I deserve to be kicked into the sewer. How could I have missed that? And that?
And, wait! Why can’t she see *that*???? It is so freaking obvious. Isn’t it? Oh. Wait. Crap. *slaps own head* It isn’t obvious. Is *that* what I wrote? No way….
Here’s one example of my editor’s suggestions (sans spoilers):
- One key point that needs consideration is the final revelation of what happened. I had trouble believing that so many people could have been involved in ___’s murder and no one cracked and told. I’d like to suggest simplifying this and making ______ the main suspect. Here’s one possible scenario that occurred to me:
And she makes an obvious suggestion. So obvious that, *why didn’t I see it????*
I don’t deserve to be allowed to breathe. I stink as a writer.
Wait… I can fix that! Of course! I can make that bothersome complaint go away! Whoowhoo!
So now I am on the way back up, on that emotional rollercoaster ride of the creative process. I love my job. I hate my job. I’ll be finished with the rewrite next week some time. Probably. And I’ll love the book so much more than I do now.
Sigh. I need a beer.
It’s five p.m. somewhere, isn’t it?
Back to work.