In The Hands of Someone Else…
There was a point on Wednesday where, on a break from writing, I turned to Stephanie and said, “In the hands of a more experience writer, this novel would be a prize-winner. In my hands, it’s just thoroughly mediocre.” Admittedly, I was being a bit harsh on myself. But when I look at this manuscript in the way I did on Wednesday, searching for places that needed expanding, for other places that needed contracting, and for moments that, with one little tweak, could add so much more nuance—when I take the time to really look hard at what I’ve written, I see much more potential than I ever would have expected.
The passages that I added on Wednesday were short, but beautiful in their brevity. It’s a good feeling to know that I’ve mastered a certain kind of writing, where, as my advisor recently put it, all I need are “a few deft strokes” to capture a complex family dynamic. This is the sort of writing that’s only possible once you have a firm grasp on your characters and on your story.
And while I only made it through the first three chapters of the behemoth, I couldn’t help but be proud of myself for breaking through a creative barrier that I feel has been blocking my potential for the last month or so.
So, Thursday will be another day at the part-time gig, and then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday will be devoted to nothing but writing. If she asks me to, I may go with Stef when she goes to get her bloodwork done on Sunday morning, but that’s about it. Other than that, I’m sitting myself down in this chair and I’m just doing it.
And you know what? There’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now.