Four months ago, I bemoaned the fact that 2014 was half over, and I had not written any new chapters (“This is That Summer”). The novel I have been crafting intermittently for the last six years, Time of Death, is also the thesis for my Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing at Chapman University, so the pressure to finish has been intense, to say the least.
In January, I carefully planned the year, as I always do, dedicating the first five months to the enormous reading load for my last class at Chapman and an overdue and ostensibly quick and simple home remodel. The entire summer, September, and October were allocated to completing and submitting the manuscript by the fall deadline of October 29.
At the time of that post in June, I was fifty-five pages away from finishing the narrative and needed to write a ten-page critical statement of my work, as well.
I dug in.
My writer demon was ever-present, scoffing at every new bit of dialogue and mocking every plot twist. I ignored him and focused on my protagonist, Fawn Evans, and on telling her story. The work has been both exhilarating and excruciating as new chapters were written and old chapters were revised seemingly ad infinitum to achieve cohesion.
Revision, I have found, is an exasperating, interminable process, especially for a perfectionist; I am never unreservedly pleased with any passage, so any declaration of its completion is nebulous at best. Even now, as I admire the bound manuscript I will be delivering to my thesis committee tomorrow, I know that, within the span of thirty or so days, innumerable deficiencies will have been identified and addressed with mortification at their untimely discovery.
That fact notwithstanding, I am proud of this journey to date and excited about the opportunity to defend my work in November. As both the author and heroine of this immense project, I am rooting for Fawn on each page and, in doing so, am rooting for myself.
The best (and probably only) way to avoid said mortification is just not to look. My managing editor always says, “I never see typos after it goes to print.”
Considering the fact that you’re highly unlikely to not look at your book ever again, the only thing I can say is at least it’s not public (yet). There are way more public things to be mortified about. . . .
Anyway, CONGRATULATIONS!!! It’s pretty much the best feeling in the world, isn’t it? So much lighter, and all of a sudden.
I know they’ll love it, and I know you’ll get back to it (again) and finish it (eventually)–and I can’t wait to read it all.
Bask in your accomplishment for a while–a weekend at least–at least eat a steak! -imp
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I agree, Ian, and know better than to look at any part of what I submitted today again before November 19. Since I’ve never reviewed so much as a Facebook post I’ve written and not made edits, reading the manuscript now would only cause me distress. Besides, I need the break – and perspective.
Thanks again for all your help and advice along the way. Your critiques have been invaluable. It IS the best feeling in the world. I ran into Mark today, and he was very supportive and pleased for me. All of the Chapman profs have been great.
So, yes, I’m utterly free for the first time in six years. It’s an odd circumstance for me. I’ll have to learn to live life again sans thesis deadline. My house will be cleaner, I’m sure.
I look forward to working on a Franzen review with you – let me know when you’re ready.
Michelle
P.S. I had steak tonight! It wasn’t bison, but it was pretty darn good.
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