2nd Draft, first swim

sunny, hot, temps 30

Gorgeous day. slight breeze - brushing away most of the black flies. Started with breakfast in Cowansville. Then home to start the second draft of book 7.

There are two terrifying days in my writers calendar. The first day of the first draft...I hate first drafts. Very scary. And the first day of the second draft - or the first edit.

that's today. I love editing, but the first day is terrifying because I've just spent 3 months fighting to keep the big, fat, stinky critic at bay. Behind the bulging door.

And now I have to let it out. I need the critical eye and thoughts for the editing. But by now the critic has grown mighty bitter and pissed-off and full of bile. It's just mean. And it's in the room with me. Venting. Screaming that I've just wasted 3 months. That the entire first draft is the worst pile of skunk poop ever dropped. That the characters are cardboard, the story confusing, the conclusion cliched. and, while we're at it, I'm fat and stupid and ugly. And, are you really going to wear that???

Yikes.

You can see why the first day of editing is pretty gruesome.

As it approached I kept reminding myself to stay in the day, in the moment. Don't think ahead. Just write down ideas as they came and don't listen to the critic warming up in the background.

As I went for walks I tried to open my mind for inspiration, and ask for help and guidance, and courage.

this morning, the first day of editing, I lay in bed and opened emails...and there was a message from a woman I hadn't seen or spoken to in 40 years. In her long email she was describing a mutual acquaintance...and her description was exactly what I was trying to do with the book. I wrote her back and thanked her - and asked if she minded if I used some of what she wrote as inspiration. And she said not at all.

It was so strange. Like waking up to an email from the gods of inspiration. It was thrilling. As I read her message so much of what I had to do became clear. Often it's just a turn of phrase...as it was in this case.

So I sat down and re-wrote the whole first chapter. Using what I already had as a base...but coming at it from a different angle. It feels right and good - and calming.

The first day is always the hardest. But when it was over Michael and I celebrated with our first swim of the season in the pool. The kids swam all weekend - the temperature in the pool was 70! Since the forecast was for continued hot weather through the week we put the heat pump on and it's now in the low 80's.

Back to editing tomorrow. It gets progressively easier. And more exciting, as the fear slips away.

But why does it have my mother's voice?

Mainly sunny, highs plus 3

I find television very educating. Everytime someone turns one on I go into the other room and read a book.
Groucho Marx

I love Groucho. One of my favorite lines from him is about Doris Day. He said, 'I knew her before she was a virgin.'

I go through periods of watching TV - but I'm very limited in my tastes. Biography Channel and HGTV. Mostly those house buying, house selling shows. Scares Michael. He's expecting to see a for sale sign on the lawn any moment. I particularly love Location, Location, Location. have blogged about that before. Pure fantasy, of course. I lie in my bath after a day's writing, and a 4pm it comes on. I watch Phil and Kirsty zoom all around the UK looking for homes. At extortionist prices. How do you in the UK do it? How do young families do it?

But that's my comfort food. Then I read books. Right now am snowed under reading books sent to me for endorsement. They're often very good, and it's a pleasure to help other writers - and my ego, in thinking my endorsement will help in any way. But I've actually started saying no, thank you. But it's a struggle. I think it's because I don't want people to hate me and I think they will if I say no.

Happily, I've started saying no, and you know what? People survive just fine. And so do I.

Have reached the amazing point in this book, which I reach in each and every book I write, where the whole thing is crap. Not just what I'm writing, but everything I've written, every word of the current novel is horrible, worthless, banal, confusing and poorly spelled. It's the nuclear bomb of criticisms, self dropped.

But it has happened with every book so far, so part of me is relieved it's here, and I can deal with it and move on. Shovel it out of the way. I'll tell you, the first time I felt this way - back in the first book - it was devastating. I believed it. I believed it the second time too, with the second book. But eventually I've learned that maybe this voice isn't right. I have a thick head, and it takes a disconcertingly long time to learn.

It's just the huge, stinking, slimy critic, clawing its way back into the room and demanding to be at the keyboard.

I spend a day or so letting it - then come to my senses.

There are people who see the worst, tear you down, want to make you feel like crap. Those people I don't let in my life. So why would I do it to myself?

So this is the end of it. The critic has left the building - to be invited back if she can behave herself, when it comes time for the editing.

Thanks for listening to the rant. Feels better.

By the way, spoke earlier this week at the Cote St Luc library. wonderful turn out, wonderful audience.

And tonight I'll be speaking by phone with a book club in Austin, Texas. So looking forward to that.

Be well. Speak to you tomorrow.