revision blues

taryari jones talks about how revision is a hell of a drug over on her blog. over on twitter i replied, “and right now i’m sooooo high!” little did i know how true that statement was. up until yesterday i had worked on my book every day this year. yesterday was day 45/32. even though i was exhausted, i dragged myself to the writing table each day, happy to put another day on my tally. a few days ago i got a scratchy throat. i usually do a pretty good job of listening to my body. i knew that i was getting rundown, that it was time for a break, but my ego was in charge. being in the thick of a revision can leave you with a feeling like being buzzed. i wanted to push, to get another day in. the perfectionist in me wouldn’t cut me any slack. i didn’t think i deserved a day off until i finished the section i was working on. never mind that i had been working for six weeks straight. that i worked through the superbowl and mardigras. it wasn’t enough. so devolved into a revision/perfectionist induced mess. yesterday i hit a wall. i always caution my friends, “if you don’t have sense enough to rest, you’ll just get sick so you can get some rest.”  so right on cue, i’m sniffly, sneezy and achy. finally, i’m going to take a nap.

to be an artist…

To be an artist means never to avert your eyes.–Akira Kurosawa

This, to me is the heart of revision. Bless the hearts of you who do this on every single draft. It would kill me, kill me to look this deep each time. But we all have our process crosses to bear. I can cut pages and pages, kill characters, eliminate entire generations to serve the story, but looking this deeply…at well over 40 hours of revising words that are mostly already written and just to be on page 10…but it is the work that is required of me now…like Job, I can’t look back…

onward…

unchartered territory

in spite of working on this novel for almost seven years, i’m in a new place. last week was a week of discovery for me. i realized that i have never actually revised anything in my entire life. yes, i now have three degrees (one in creative writing). yes, i won an award for my work (still) in progress, but i’ve never done the kind of deep agonizing revision that some of my peers like craig actually enjoy. whenever he would tell me about spending days (days!) pouring over a single page, i just didn’t get it. he’s a born editor (literally has it in his genes) and i am not. i’m a shitty editor, but i make up for it with a wild imagination.

i was lucky enough to come across anne lamott’s bird by bird fairly early in my attempts to write and took her shitty first drafts to heart. i just didn’t have the chops, inclination or fortitude back then (or now) to labor over every word. i’m just too shy for all that and i would never have gotten past page one without the freedom to make a big ole mess. i wish i had a record of all the pages i’ve written to get here. i know the number is well over a thousand pages–maybe closer to 1500 pages of novel. i can gleefully chuck them out because the writing for me is easy. the revision is hard.

this week i turned a corner. in the pit of my stomach i realized that this is the draft. the draft that will make these pages a book.

i’ve never been here before. for me, revision requires an intense amount of concentration. this is not merely clean-up i’m doing now, but looking at every sentence, every word and making sure it isn’t just pretty, isn’t just interesting, but doing the work i need it to do in the novel. when i’m cranking out raw draft pages, i can easily churn out a couple thousand words. these days several hours may turn out a page that is more of a mess than when i started it.

but this is the thing. there is nowhere else to go. this is it. and the only way out is through it.

red pen in hand…