Dear Reader,
This morning (Day 2) I was looking forward to yet more writing and revision time on Novel Three when, alas, I realized that a number of reviews were due. I had simply failed to notice the deadline.
Merde.
Either way, the novel had to wait while I turned my attention elsewhere.
Word Raccoon sighed dramatically, flopped over on the nearest stack of manuscript pages, and declared that this was not the adventure she had been promised.
Also, she wanted to know why I was giving her iced coffee rather than Coke Zero.
Unfortunately, my left wrist had other ideas. After several days of scraping and painting, followed by pages of handwritten notes yesterday, it had become decidedly stiff and sore. I did a few wrist exercises, took some medicine, and then decided that today would be the day my right hand received a promotion.
So my right hand learned to Write. Copy. Paste. Navigate. Click.
Slowly.
Awkwardly.
But it learned.
Before long, I had finished the reviews. Not the writing morning I had envisioned, but at least the work was done.
Afterward, I decided to read aloud the first three pages of the James section, the section I had been so proud of. Not polished, certainly, but in good shape, or so I believed.
Dear Reader, do not read your work aloud unless you are prepared to hear it.
Really hear it.
Not only did I stumble over the gaps I had already noticed yesterday, but I discovered entirely new ones. The timeline needs tightening. The opening needs more grounding. Wouldn’t it be nice to know what James and his father actually look like, considering this is our first time meeting them? And because I have invented a religious sect, I suddenly realized that I need to know its rules. Do the men wear beards? What expectations shape daily life? What details would James have taken for granted?
Three pages, and suddenly I had a page full of questions.
I went from feeling quietly confident about this section to realizing how much work still lies ahead. I wanted to cry, but Word Raccoon warned me I’d make my mascara run.
Thankfully, I have lunch plans later today, which means I will have a few hours in which I am not allowed to think about the novel.
Word Raccoon insists I am being far too hard on myself. She points out that reading the pages aloud did not make them worse. It simply showed me where the next layer of work is waiting.
She’s probably right, although I’m not yet prepared to admit it.
My writing process hurt my feelings.
How dare it not be perfect from the get-go!
How dare it so obviously show me that I am not a delicate genius! (Never said I was, but it would be nice.)
One unexpected bright spot came from all of this. Since handwriting was making my wrist complain after pages of notes yesterday, I experimented with voice-to-text for today’s notes. I think it may become part of my process, at least on days when my joints are staging a protest.
The novel, however?
I cannot imagine dictating fiction.
Perhaps one day necessity will persuade me otherwise, but for now I still want the sentences to arrive through my fingertips, one word, one digit, at a time, even if they take a little longer than they used to.
Then again, so many things seem to take longer than I think they ought to.
Can I do this?
Can I complete this novel?
Am I being overly ambitious, as usual?
This all on Day. Two.
Le Sigh.
Trying not to mistake “revision needed” for failure, but failing at the moment. 😞
For about two seconds I wondered where the “delete novel” button on my keyboard is, not the first time I have asked that question.
Even Word Raccoon, who is much more in favor of poetry, is bristling at the very suggestion.
Besides, I think my wrist is limbering up.
Back to the novel.
For now.
WR, I NEED THE POM POMS!
If she starts doing cartwheels, I’ll never get her to settle down.
Drema