I recently passed a new author milestone––I turned in my first round edits of Black Bird of the Gallows to my editor. I thought I’d be relieved to hand over the revised version, but no. I chewed the hell out of my nails and scowled so much, my kid started cranking out paintings of flowers and smiling stick-figures, then taping them to my computer. (See exhibit A)
My edit letter (if anyone is curious) was one page, but included the words: we need to add 15K words, but don’t panic! Okay. Yes, I panicked. And then I got to work. My editor outlined the issues that needed to be addressed and in the end I wound up adding 16K words (ha!). The book is better, stronger. But the truth is, every time I read it, I find something to tweak, adjust, revise. It’s unsettling for sure, and oh-so easy to fall into the trap of tweaking, adjusting, revising forever, because it’s never perfect. Never as good as it could be. It’s a dark spiral that can ensnare a writer into not submitting, into holding on to the precioussss. (See exhibit B)
So it’s this: At certain point, we have to let go of the things we make. There will be good responses. There will be silence. There will be, Oh sweet heavens, I have never read such tripe in the whole of my life. I know this is all part of the process. I’ve never had difficulty letting go of a manuscript that wasn’t selling and moving on to another. However, letting go of a manuscript to be presented to the public will be a new experience for me and THIS sort of letting go IS nerve wracking. The day is approaching when there will be no more edits. No more chances to read it for the ninety-eighth time and catch that weird inconsistency that I missed in the previous ninety-seven reads. No more new eyeballs to say, “this part could be better…” Gulp. Scary? Hell yeah. But kind of exciting, too.