Scary Stuff
When I write about writing, it's often after something has been published or won an award, and that's not scary.
What's really scary is to talk about my writing in the middle of it, when I don't know what it is, when I'm terrified it's not a real book, when I wake up at night and convince myself I've just constructed the worst book in the world.
That's where I am right now, and it's not a place I like to be. I like to be either at the beginning of the process, when the book is just a great idea in my head and my confidence level is high, or at the end of the process, when my editor and I have done the best we can and the manuscript's about to get sucked into the publishing machine and spit out as a book on the other side.
It's this middle stuff that's scary.
This next book is, once again, a weird mix of genres. It's memoir and nonfiction. It's about facing recent challenges on our farm, what to do about them, and why anyone should even care if a small farm bites the dust. So it's also about small farms and what they contribute to the world and about wool and sheep and about knitting a sock.
How do I know in what order to put things? Are the details boring? Will I be the only one who thinks the piece about me trying to catch a lamb in tight jeans is funny? Structure, structure, structure. Details, details. Is there an emotional journey? Why would anyone want to read this stuff?
The first draft was full of huge holes, but I wanted my editor's feedback. She was swamped, so it took her a month to respond. She loved Part 1, which was good. Parts 2 and 3 weren't even close to being what they needed to be (although she said this much more nicely than I've put it.) I went back to the drawing board, as they say.
This morning I sent the next draft off to my editor, which means I may not actually breathe until I hear from her. I know I'll continue inhaling and exhaling, but a huge part of me will not be paying any attention to my life until I know if the book is on track, or if it's in the wrong country entirely.
Many people think that once you've written a few books, it gets easier, that you relax because you know what you're doing. While I do have more overall confidence in myself, when I'm in the middle of this process my confidence hangs up a "Do Not Disturb" sign and refuses to come out and play.
My mouth's dry. My stomach's tight. Just sitting here writing about the scary stuff is scary stuff.
Time to take a walk, breathe deeply, and hug the puppy.
The Inkslinger
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Catherine, Inkslinger
I write. I farm. I write about farming (Farm Tales.) I write about writing (The Inkslinger.) Why Inkslinger? Dive into a Roget's Thesaurus and you'll find 'inkslinger' is an old word for 'writer.' I love that word. It's western, it's a gunslinger with a pen, and I want it to be me. As my photo shows, I've always wanted to be a cowgirl. Didn't happen. Being afraid of horses might have something to do with that...
The Inkslinger
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People want to read this stuff. People need to read this stuff. And every struggling farmer (a pretty decent readership base) gets hungry for affirmation of farming's best and worst from another farmer who has BEEN there--especially when funny stories about chasing lambs in tight jeans are involved.
ReplyDeleteBreathe a little deeper, if you can. There are folks out here who really trust your writing skills and abilities. Yes...you...can!
MaineCelt,
ReplyDeleteYes, you're right. Writers AND farmers need to know others struggle. After Hit by a Farm came out, I had lots of farmers come up to me and say, "You know when Melissa wrapped the drag around the tractor tire? That happened to me."
Of course they'd say this very softly, and look around to make sure no one else was listening!
Yes, there are plenty of us who love your stories, whether we've done the same thing, or if we didn't but can imagine it happening! (Fortunately I was home alone when I reached down to catch a fast moving kid, and the seat of my very worn out jeans gave out! I did catch that rascal before it ran out the barn door, though.)
ReplyDeleteBest of luck getting through the rough spots, and I'll be looking forward to your new book!
Carol B,
ReplyDeleteYeah, those pant-splitting stories are always side-splitters! Melissa walked up to the house the other day with her hands behind her back (we had guests.) She was wearing new but cheap painter pants and the back split all the way open when she moved too quickly.
No more cheap pants for her.
Hungry. That's what we are . . . hungry for this book that is giving you fits. Don't doubt yourself. As MaineCelt said you're writing of something people need to read. And want to read. We NEED to care if another small farm bites the dust. And we need you to put the information you've gleaned out there . . . too-tight jeans and all.
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