Every day starts with the same goal: I am totally going to bust through three chapters of The Beast today and rickety rock The Casbah.
Every day ends the same way: I am human garbage and I got zero things done on The Beast.
Revision is hard, y’all. Like really hard. Harder than I thought.
When I first got the suggestions back from The Potential Agent, I was a fist-pumping, fire-in-my-veins ready to write the shit out of this thing. Then I really read what she had to say . . . things about making some characters more like humans and deepening relationships and making someone vulnerable or more provocative.
And it all sounds easy enough. It is not.
Sister #2 and my friends keep asking him how the book is going. Every time I shrug and say “I just have to revise it. It’s hard.”
Then, because they love me, they kind of nod their heads knowingly, sympathetically, then talk about the battle between my artistic integrity and what the potential agent has suggested. About vision and other hippy creative crap that makes me want to pinch their cheeks because they are so cute.
And because I love them, I say, “yeah, yeah, you’re right.”
They are not right. It’s weird that they automatically assume the potential agent’s suggestions are something I’m doing battle with, an argument against my work. When that is not the case at all. It’s that her suggestions are good and require thought.
It’s hard because it requires so much thinking and so many problems to solve and oh my god why did I write such a steaming pile of garbage to begin with?
This morning, after coffee, I sat down with my pages and Mircosoft Word. I’m gonna finish chapter 2 and then bust through Chapter 3 this morning and then sit on the couch and watch “Jessica Jones.” That’s what I told myself, because it’s good to have goals. But then I had to make Cora say something provocative (Cora’s my main character) and then I had to explain the Heavy Metal Drummer joke without being too explainy. And then I re-read the suggestions for chapter 3 about really getting to the heart of who Drew is and my brain collapsed in on itself because I don’t know how to do that.
This is hard, y’all. I feel like I should be done already or that I’m too dumb to finish this or that I am being lazy and using the thinking as an excuse not to write.
Bleh. I am going to go dye my hair purple and watch “Jessica Jones” and hope the answers come to me in the night.