You may have noticed that I haven't blogged much lately. I've been dreading it, mainly because of this post. (I get that I don't have to write something if I don't want to, but I feel as if I have to. Just hang with me a bit here.)
I finished the first draft of my novel back in March. I was thrilled to be done, but I wasn't looking forward to the editing. I gave myself until June and backed away, far away, from my writing and my book.
As time has inched by, I've grown less scared of editing. I've been thinking about various pieces of my book and changes I might need to make. I've actually been looking forward, in part, to editing.
Still, this book is scary. I've written Isabel's story about a rotten childhood, and revisiting that childhood is one of the most unpleasant activities I've contemplated undertaking. But the book won't edit itself, and even a paid editor is going to come back to me and say, "Um, Dawn? You're gonna have to rewrite this part." Plus, me being the excellence fanatic that I am, I won't be satisfied unless I know it's written as well as it can be, and that means me polishing a rough first draft.
But it doesn't mean I have to do it alone. Smart Dawn. I'm circling my wagons now when I might need help rather than when I've figured out the wolves' howls are close, and the wagons are in danger. I've told people about my book and my fears. I've asked friends to check on me. I've told people I might need help.
Smartest move? I had an editing party. I invited Stacy, Lee, and Antonette over on Friday for support and lunch. I laid it all out and told them I was scared, drowning in fear, and that I felt completely alone. They promised to love and keep me safe, and upstairs I went to edit while they stayed downstairs. One condition of the editing party was that they had to read the first three chapters while I edited so that they could get a sense of the subject matter and what I was dealing with.
For me, the editing went fine. I started just reading, and I made notes to go back later and make changes. I got through about 50 pages, and I went downstairs.
Back together, we talked about what they had read, their reactions, their love, their questions (you don't often get the chance to ask the author what she meant by that or if this was really true). We ate lunch, and I got to play hostess, a role I adore.
It was a great day. The editing went smoothly. My friends circled around me. Life was good.
Until that night.
My subconscious decided to deal with all I hadn't been dealing with during the day, and I had horrible nightmares. Saturday set me back badly, and I wouldn't let Chris leave my side. We'd had a date planned, and I couldn't stomach the idea of a movie. Something about sitting in a dark theater with only my thoughts to keep me company (yes, Chris would be next to me, but he'd be watching the movie) wasn't sounding pleasant. So we went to New York J&P for dinner and then went shopping. Fairly safe activities.
I got through it, and I've had a good couple of days. Last night I slept well.
The book is still there, though. It's Tuesday, and I haven't gone back to editing. With the way my schedule this week, probably Friday. Anyone up for a party?