On false starts, or being ruthless

As I dive head-first into a sea of notes and outlines I’ve amassed over the last several years, I’m finding myself in new territory: creating something entirely new.

My first book had plenty of false starts. Plenty. I started it as a thesis for my undergraduate degree, fueled by Peet’s Coffee and Boulder flatirons and a hefty dose of pixie dust and magic. I loved the idea. I’d get chills just thinking about it. But as I’ve discovered over the years, the idea I adored in my head wasn’t making it to the page. (Case in point: when your thesis advisor wrinkles his forehead as you describe what your novel is really about, you need to go back and revise. And revise again. And again, and again…you get the idea.)

It took me a long time to accept that while this manuscript is technically my first book, I’ve rewritten it at least five times. Not just small tweaks here and there, but total, ruthless rewrites. And I say ruthless very deliberately. It hurts to kill off your favorite scenes (sometimes your favorite characters), it hurts to press delete in the span of one breathless second and remove work that took hundreds of hours to complete. But know this: it was the only way to make it better.

As a self-described “recovering perfectionist,” it took me a long time to see it this way. I’d always thought a novel had to be perfect the first time around. (Newsflash: NOT POSSIBLE!) Starting over would be admitting defeat. At least, that’s what I thought. WOW, was I wrong!

The false starts I made in earlier versions needed to happen so that the breakthroughs could come later. I guess it’d have been easier (saner?!) to say, “To *beep* with this! I’ll start a new novel!” and, sure, that’s another challenge all in itself, but I just couldn’t do it. I had to write this novel. Call me stubborn, call me crazy, but I just couldn’t get this novel out of my heart. And here’s my advice for other writers feeling the same way: write what’s in your heart. It’s okay if it doesn’t come out squeaky clean the first time; nothing does. Whip clunky scenes into shape, change them a million times. Challenge yourself to see your novel with fresh eyes, figure out what works and what doesn’t. Let other trusted readers give feedback. It might sound crazy, but I promise promise promise seeing your beloved idea make it to the page will be totally worth it.

Or in other words: be ruthless.

I’ll know I’ll be.