But I Don't Want to Edit This Novel

Canva. Little girl with her arms crossed and her eyes closed in a temper tantrum on top of spring yellow and blue flowers.

What I’m supposed to be doing right now is using June to edit a novel I finished a year ago. It’s been on the schedule. It’s blinked at me from my 2nd quarter goals. It’s not been a big secret nor a surprise. But I don’t want to. 

If I were a child, I would be in a puffy pink dress and have a huge pink bow in my curly brown hair. You’d watch me stamp my pink shoed feet and scream “I don’t want to.” Picture the spoiled girl in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. A nightmare to deal with. 

I’m not so far gone that I’m the mean Aunt Marge from The Prisoner of Azkaban. But if someone asks what I’m working on, I try to avoid mentioning anything about editing. My female dog absolutely refused to go outside in the rain. Ever. It’s a hard rule. The writer me knows I need to edit and is tugging on the leash, but my heart is dug in and not moving out into the storm. 

I seem to hit edits in the summer months. That should be a happy time to slog through the story I left sitting in a drawer for a long time. This is normal for me. I put a book far away. When I come back to it, I see the words with less emotional attachment. Go me. At least I understand the logic, right? 

Photo by Stephen Andrews: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-displeased-girl-screaming-in-anger-9305112/

Little girls screaming in anger.

Last spring, I heard about a top-notch editing class. It only runs one time a year. In January, I put it on my schedule to work through as I would need to do edits about the time it opened. The textbook arrived in the mail last week. It’s thick. And there is so much to learn. Talk about intimidating. 

Mind you, I want to have work that is polished. The lack of motivation is more about am I good writer, should I keep working on this, and I’m not that good at writing. All of those are mind sucks. Not true and not helpful. I must banish them to the trash pile and then set the whole thing on fire. Sometimes a writer’s mind is not an asset. Fears peek out from all corners, and you're left exhausted and feeling alone on a raft far out in the muse sea. 

I don’t share first drafts with my critique group. My fragile feelings aren’t able to create and then edit it the same day. Perhaps in the future that’s something I should work on. For now, I give them somewhere between a third or fourth draft. I’m getting better at writing on one book and working on edits or business stuff for another. This is my speed. 

What this means is I need to print out the book on cheap paper and give it a read. Then another read with an eye to names, places, and continuity on the surface. After those things are corrected, I send it out to my wonderful writing friends. By then I don’t hate the book yet. It still has potential. 

This means right now, I need to get to reading and stop watching dog videos on Instagram.

Underneath all the “I don’t want to” and “I’m no good at this” is the genuine fear that drives me to play small. I’m going to fail. All the classes and hard work I’ve done, and it will all be stuffed in a box up into an attic somewhere to be tossed into the bin after my death. Heavy. 

@cookiethepom

A pomerian in necklace, shirt and glasses working on an ipad. Adorable. It has nothing to do with the article. it’s just cute as heck and I wanted you to see it.

There are all kinds of other fears. We each have a set marked as our own baggage to flagellate ourselves with when we’re down and depressed. Failure comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes. 

I write all this to say, you must meet your fear. Say hello, and when fear gets too big for its britches, kick it down. Then when you see the light, tell fear to go @#!k itself. I promise you’ll feel better. Guess I better go do some butt kicking of my own. 

Where are you at with your writing? I’d love to hear if you’ve got any tips and tricks. Happy Writing!