Boomerang Effect
It's gone . . . again.
The manuscript, that is. It used to be , back in the olde days, when we chiseled out the words with the aid of typewriters and that white ink correcting fluid and thought long and hard about whether we really wanted to change "sitting at the table, he ate fried eggs" to "he sat at the table and ate fried eggs" because it meant retyping the whole miserable page, at least when you sent off a manuscript you could count on it being gone for a while.
No longer.
With the advent of instantly gratified (or not) editors who have had the manuscript via email and who have read the whole thing faster than we can type a single page, the damn thing is back before you know it. There's no time to step back, cogitate, breathe a little, catch up on the things you've TIVOed to watch which you didn't have time to watch while you were writing, read the books you've been saving to read, mark down on the door jamb how much your kids have grown since you noticed them last (which was back when you began the book ).
Nope. You've got revisions. And they need them back sooner rather than later. Always.
And so you study the revision letter, and you whine a little (or a lot, but in my case actually very little this time because the editor was absolutely right about the draggy bits) and then you get down to doing something about it.
But -- and this is the tricky bit -- you don't have the distance you used to have. In the olde days, the book was gone at least a month, maybe longer. There was a bit of distance by the time it -- or its revision letter -- came winging back. It was easier to be detached and to see the flaws yourself. You weren't still in the middle of the forest, closely acquainted with all the trees. You were maybe a mile or two away. The book looks different from there.
So I miss that distance. I miss that perspective. I actually like doing revisions. I'm always wary of books that get snapped up on the first dash out of the starting gate. They worry me because they seem a little 'young' and 'unfinished.' The truth is I've never had a book yet I didn't think couldn't stand another run through the brain.
(Note to editor: this does not mean you are required to send everything back for revisions. I do a lot of them on my own before you ever see it, thank you very much.).
But I do appreciate the chance to go through and take another look. Usually this is important because I'm still figuring out the story the first, second, third time through. By the time it went across the pond (when it used to fly not go cyberspatially) and returned I had a chance to step back from it and get a sense of the story as a whole. Coming at revisions then was easier somehow. Or maybe I just think it was because we're not doing it that way anymore!
Anyway, it's good that Theo came back. I wish he'd stayed away a little longer the first time. When I saw him again, I felt like I did when my oldest son went away to university and came home the following weekend. It was like, what? You again? (I love him, but I really needed a bit of a breather. He was not precisely low maintenance.)
Nor was Theo. But he -- and I -- got some rest while my eye was recovering from the cataract surgery. And when I finally did look at him, it was with a great deal more color to my palette this time around.
I think he's a better book -- and hero -- for having come back for more attention. His story is sharper now. Better focused. More streamlined -- though longer, which is not something you should mention to my editor if you speak with her. (But to my editor's great joy, I have a slightly used granny for sale if anyone wants her for their book. She speaks Swedish -- the granny, not the editor -- and she would be a great addition to any family-focused contemporary romance -- just not mine, according to the ed. Maybe I can put granny on ebay?)
Anyway, Monday morning I flung the boomerang back toward Richmond. It's the editor's turn. She tells me she is taking Wednesday as a 'reading day.' That's tomorrow. Yikes.
Well, I hope she likes Theo and his lady and that all his draggy bits are gone. I also hope he doesn't come back again. If so, I'm going to duck.
The manuscript, that is. It used to be , back in the olde days, when we chiseled out the words with the aid of typewriters and that white ink correcting fluid and thought long and hard about whether we really wanted to change "sitting at the table, he ate fried eggs" to "he sat at the table and ate fried eggs" because it meant retyping the whole miserable page, at least when you sent off a manuscript you could count on it being gone for a while.
No longer.
With the advent of instantly gratified (or not) editors who have had the manuscript via email and who have read the whole thing faster than we can type a single page, the damn thing is back before you know it. There's no time to step back, cogitate, breathe a little, catch up on the things you've TIVOed to watch which you didn't have time to watch while you were writing, read the books you've been saving to read, mark down on the door jamb how much your kids have grown since you noticed them last (which was back when you began the book ).
Nope. You've got revisions. And they need them back sooner rather than later. Always.
And so you study the revision letter, and you whine a little (or a lot, but in my case actually very little this time because the editor was absolutely right about the draggy bits) and then you get down to doing something about it.
But -- and this is the tricky bit -- you don't have the distance you used to have. In the olde days, the book was gone at least a month, maybe longer. There was a bit of distance by the time it -- or its revision letter -- came winging back. It was easier to be detached and to see the flaws yourself. You weren't still in the middle of the forest, closely acquainted with all the trees. You were maybe a mile or two away. The book looks different from there.
So I miss that distance. I miss that perspective. I actually like doing revisions. I'm always wary of books that get snapped up on the first dash out of the starting gate. They worry me because they seem a little 'young' and 'unfinished.' The truth is I've never had a book yet I didn't think couldn't stand another run through the brain.
(Note to editor: this does not mean you are required to send everything back for revisions. I do a lot of them on my own before you ever see it, thank you very much.).
But I do appreciate the chance to go through and take another look. Usually this is important because I'm still figuring out the story the first, second, third time through. By the time it went across the pond (when it used to fly not go cyberspatially) and returned I had a chance to step back from it and get a sense of the story as a whole. Coming at revisions then was easier somehow. Or maybe I just think it was because we're not doing it that way anymore!
Anyway, it's good that Theo came back. I wish he'd stayed away a little longer the first time. When I saw him again, I felt like I did when my oldest son went away to university and came home the following weekend. It was like, what? You again? (I love him, but I really needed a bit of a breather. He was not precisely low maintenance.)
Nor was Theo. But he -- and I -- got some rest while my eye was recovering from the cataract surgery. And when I finally did look at him, it was with a great deal more color to my palette this time around.
I think he's a better book -- and hero -- for having come back for more attention. His story is sharper now. Better focused. More streamlined -- though longer, which is not something you should mention to my editor if you speak with her. (But to my editor's great joy, I have a slightly used granny for sale if anyone wants her for their book. She speaks Swedish -- the granny, not the editor -- and she would be a great addition to any family-focused contemporary romance -- just not mine, according to the ed. Maybe I can put granny on ebay?)
Anyway, Monday morning I flung the boomerang back toward Richmond. It's the editor's turn. She tells me she is taking Wednesday as a 'reading day.' That's tomorrow. Yikes.
Well, I hope she likes Theo and his lady and that all his draggy bits are gone. I also hope he doesn't come back again. If so, I'm going to duck.
posted by Anne McAllister at 10:06 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home