I did something stupid. Rookie mistake. I shared the first 100 pages of the manuscript I’m working on before they were ready. I mean of course I thought they were ready, but now that my reader (and she is a brilliant reader) has pointed out an enormous problem, I feel like throwing the whole thing out. Yes, petulant baby. Of course, the whole reason I gave it to her was to see if the structure was working, cutting back and forth between two time frames. And it’s what I wanted to know, but it isn’t what I wanted to hear.
I hate writing today. How about you?
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Betsy Lerner 
Nice use of John Prine.
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Just the opposite. I’m at that phase at the beginning of a project where all things are possible and I’m excited about working. This could change, of course, but for now I’m, ah, riding high.
(“Angel from Montgomery” refers to a pardon coming up from the governor in Alabama for a death row inmate, something that is probably happening with less frequency in this political climate where due process has been kicked to the curb.
John Prine spoke truth to power. No reason to stop now. He’s gone, but his songs remain strong).
I think it’s okay to be a petulant baby for a day or two. Then, you’ll roll up your sleeves and get to it! (Also, cookies. Cookies will help.)
Oh no. That’s always a gut punch. It makes you think, how in the HELL did I not see that? The feeling of wanting to toss it might come from the difficulty you see in fixing it. Like a total rewrite. . . or structure change.
And yes, right now I’m in a funk with regard to writing. I’m working on a project that’s got great promise (at least I think) only, the overall story is escaping me. Plus, part of my icky/funky feeling is I picked up COVID while at a book festival last weekend. 😑
Dang it. It’s me, Donna E.
I feel this. But recently I got lucky. A good friend—former professor and now current colleague—convinced me to give him the first chapter of a mss I’m working through. I felt like it was a mistake. Too soon. But I wanted to know first chapter things, mainly if he’d even make it through a few thousand words without drifting off. Then I was afraid he’d point out all the things I didn’t see yet and probably shouldn’t see yet. But he said the right things. Here’s all the stuff that’s working. Keep going. I suspect he had more to say, but he’s like the Oracle in the Matrix. He told me what I needed to hear.
I feel like this is my whole writing life in some ways. I look back at some stuff from when I was younger and want to hide it like an embarrassing photo album. But there were enough people at the time (usually one will do) who said to keep going. I think some measure of delusion is a necessary part of the process.
Hate it today.
John C. ktieg.
The forest for the trees my dear woman. I think you’re an expert on that dynamic. Even when we read our pieces out loud to ourselves, we are so familiar with the passages that we just skip over the mistakes. And then there’s the question about revision and how much of it is necessary versus how much of it is just timid procrastination. If I were to listen to everything Kim Addonizio says about revising, I would never send anything out into the universe.
All the writing advice books (and I’ve read them all) say to wait, wait, wait; to make absolutely sure. Well…I say that’s bullshit. At age 73 and after 35 years of it I wonder just what am I waiting for? Writing is like sex – if you don’t enjoy it, why engage in it? So, you got a little excited that you were onto something, BFD. The good news is that you got a little excited, and that will push you onward.
A writer of your caliber doesn’t have to be humbled about anything. It sounds like you have a bond with your reader who will give you honest feedback. I wish I had that. When I finish a piece that I am truly happy with I send it out to friends, mere acquaintances, and anyone who hasn’t yet blocked me on their email for being a royal pain-in-the-ass. And yes, after that I find the typos, the wrong word usage, the structural problems; but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I look at the sending out process as my reward for all the hard work I’ve put in. It’s sort of a celebration. And I repress any notion that their radio silence is their way of hoping I’ll get the hint and stop sending them my shit. The truth is that if I’d never sent it out, I would have never worried so much, and to quiet the beast, to then go back and check. It’s kind of an ass-backward process, but it works for me.
Tackling two different time frames is a tall order and as hard to execute as flashbacks that can get really annoying. I have no doubt that you’ll solve it. As for your reader and anyone else. What are they going to do – put you to death? You will be absolved when you’ve finally finished the work, just like all those other times. I have no doubt.
Forward.
Structure is a forever frustration for writing anything of length. I am struggling with writing the stories of three protagonists and fitting them inside different timelines for each (a longer history for the older character). And feedback about your writing is a two-edged sword, sometimes it is gratifying, sometimes disappointing, but when the latter it may be instructive and make you a better writer.
Back on the horse tomorrow, it’s better to know now it wasn’t working.
I hear ya…I’m busy with a rewrite of my first novel, after feedback from a really, really good reader who pointed out a really large problem. Did I love that? No. But here I am, tap, tapping away again. Is it all worth it? Gah! Throws hands in air. I don’t know. But it IS nice to know that I’m not alone.
“I hate writing today. How about you?”
I don’t. Never have. Even when it wins the bout and pins me to the mat, I don’t hate it. I just get up and wrestle the next match.
Rookie mistake? On your part? Please allow me to disagree. And even if you don’t allow it, I’m going to anyway. You were at a point in the compositional practice where you needed feedback, maybe without even fully knowing you were at that point, but rather were intuiting it. You as much as said so yourself.
We’ve all been there, if we’ve been writing with any seriousness over any length of time. We hit upon something that we think is really neat and clever and we want to show it to someone. It’s that part of the child in us that in a creative person never dies — “Look at what I found! Look at what I made! Listen to this cool thing I learned!”
We lose that part, we squelch that part, we turn away from it, that’s when we lose our way and we lose ourselves. This being creative, it always leaves us vulnerable, it always means we’re going to be hurt, it always means we’re going to take chances that may not result in the accolades we crave.
I do tend to go on overmuch. Editor, Editor, clean-up on Aisle 7! Stat! So no, I don’t hate writing today, and won’t, and when I get gobsmacked by it I’ll do just as you have, I’ll flail about for a moment and bewail my fuck-up, then I’ll get back to it.
Ugh, I hear you and feel you! Don’t be ME! I have been working on a memoir, and those who have read it were excited and encouraging, but the subject matter is painful and hard to get through…. Flash forward to a random comment that people aren’t interested in a story like that anymore, and my dumb ass hasn’t worked on it since.
All I know for sure is that you are a brilliant writer. Take a moment, then put your big girl panties back on, and keep writing!
I’ll try to do the same :)-
If it was ready you wouldn’t need a reader to help you! Even geniuses need objective eyes.
It’s not that I hate writing today or any day. It’s just that I do one more load of laundry thinking about what I “will” write and then I drive to the pharmacy thinking about what I “will write” and so the day goes and surely when the sun goes down and the house is quiet and the evening dishes are done “I will write all my great ideas down” but now I am drowsy and the head is drooping towards the keyboard and I am thinking about what “I will write tomorrow morning.” Does this mean that perhaps I am not really a writer but I do want to write!