Letting Go
I know a couple of writers--well, more than a couple, actually--who can never let go. They have been tweaking their masterpeice for years. Or, worse, have never actually finished anything ever.
Now, I have friends who write for the pleasure of it, so I know not everyone is dying to be published. But they're in the minority. Yet some people just can't seem to toss their hat into the ring. Fear of rejection? Sure. We all have that. But sometimes it's a psychological hiccup--a fear of letting go.
I know that fear. Every time I turn in a book to my editor, the VERY NEXT DAY, as soon as my mind isn't so focused on deadline-deadline-deadline, I will suddenly have an epiphany. I'll think of a cool plot twist, a better back story for a minor character, whatever. You dread letting go. You get your galleys--and you fear letting go because somewhere is a typo you just KNOW is going to jump out at you only after it's in print.
But having let go of 15 or 16 novels now, I realize something. Like parenting, it's all about letting go. Always letting go. It's a process. You accept your child is going to get that nose ring when he or she turns 18 and there's nothing you can do about it . . . you recognize you have to let go . . . the same thing holds for novels. You WILL get rejections. You WILL find mistakes after it's published. You WILL come up with a great plot twist six months after you think you're done. Accept this. Also accept the novel is pretty darn good as it is.
The best cure for the fear of letting go is to be working on your Next Big Thing. Move forward. Accept that your fears are the fears of countless other writers. If you can't seem to finish, you must. Just force yourself. Let go. This is a marathon, not a 40-yard-dash. Release your creativitiy, finish your novel, put it out there and start the next one. Make a conscious choice. Cut the cosmic umbilical cord. Let your baby out there. Then start trying to conceive the next one.
Say it with me.
I will let go.
Now, I have friends who write for the pleasure of it, so I know not everyone is dying to be published. But they're in the minority. Yet some people just can't seem to toss their hat into the ring. Fear of rejection? Sure. We all have that. But sometimes it's a psychological hiccup--a fear of letting go.
I know that fear. Every time I turn in a book to my editor, the VERY NEXT DAY, as soon as my mind isn't so focused on deadline-deadline-deadline, I will suddenly have an epiphany. I'll think of a cool plot twist, a better back story for a minor character, whatever. You dread letting go. You get your galleys--and you fear letting go because somewhere is a typo you just KNOW is going to jump out at you only after it's in print.
But having let go of 15 or 16 novels now, I realize something. Like parenting, it's all about letting go. Always letting go. It's a process. You accept your child is going to get that nose ring when he or she turns 18 and there's nothing you can do about it . . . you recognize you have to let go . . . the same thing holds for novels. You WILL get rejections. You WILL find mistakes after it's published. You WILL come up with a great plot twist six months after you think you're done. Accept this. Also accept the novel is pretty darn good as it is.
The best cure for the fear of letting go is to be working on your Next Big Thing. Move forward. Accept that your fears are the fears of countless other writers. If you can't seem to finish, you must. Just force yourself. Let go. This is a marathon, not a 40-yard-dash. Release your creativitiy, finish your novel, put it out there and start the next one. Make a conscious choice. Cut the cosmic umbilical cord. Let your baby out there. Then start trying to conceive the next one.
Say it with me.
I will let go.
posted by Erica Orloff at 9:28 AM
8 Comments:
I SO needed to read this today. Thank you very, very much.
Have a great week
Michele L
Hi Michele:
I've shared before that when I sold my first novel, Spanish Disco, I never went to bed that night. Not because I was so pumped up from celebrating, but because I thought I'd never come up with another good idea ever. And it was also because it meant letting it go. I'd never tweak it again. It was "finished." I think we all struggle with this.
E
I think it was my old pal Ernest, speaking of deadlines I guess, who said, "A book is never really finished. It's just due."
Then again, I think it was my old pal Orson who said, "We will sell no wine before its time."
So, I think you have to find a balance. And, of course, every writer is different. Some writers (JA Konrath comes to mind) can whip out a serviceable 70K word draft in a month; for others (Sue Grafton comes to mind, with a schedule of 18 months between books), it might considerably longer.
I agree with you though, Erica, that there comes a time when you have to let a project go and move on, even if letting go means tossing the manuscript in a drawer and forgetting about it.
Ernest knew what he was talking about. Then again, so did Orson.
I can do a book in four months--but I always like to qualify that and state that the idea of it and the characters may be stewing around in there for months longer or even years. Half ideas, glimpses of an idea, that sort of thing.
But in the end . . . you have to release it. Push it out of the nest and let it fly. Or fall.
E
I think writing a book and then finding an agent is like labor and delivery. You remember that the labor hurt but it was so worth it.
Great post Erica.
la:
Agreed. And then once it happens, you do kind of forget the pain. :-)
E
Ouch! I really recognize this! Thanks for the positive thought on this very difficult action (I'm still trying to "let go" and let my daughter be the beautiful adult that she is!)
Thanks again
Hi Bev:
"Baby" is a metaphor for many things we have to let go of. :-)
E
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