I wrote this about four years ago, but since I haven't changed my mind the least little bit, I'm re-using it. If you've read it before, thanks for your patience!
Oh, my gosh, I love revisions.
Last week and the week before, when I talked to my editor—a couple of times; he had a lot of things to tell me—I kept saying Really? in a squealy, whiney, don’t wanna do it voice. I know I did. Not that I’m proud of that particular voice, but since I’ve been hauling it around my whole life, I may as well own it. And I said, at the ends of these conversations, “Okay, I can do this. Thanks for the help.” And then I hung up and looked at my laptop and said Really? in a squealy, whiney, thankfully silent voice.
Then I went to work. And I have had, it must be said, some of those stone days John Denver sang about. I have stared at the screen of my laptop until dust motes danced merrily before my eyes before settling into the bunnies under the desk. I have chewed my thumbnail down to an uncomfortable nub. I have done laundry before I had a load, washed dishes by hand, and cooked meals when there were leftovers to be had. I have thought, I can’t do this. I may as well call and renege. Because I...just...can’t.
I also had some days that were diamonds. I had lunch with friends, dinner with
And then there was this morning. It is Sunday, when I never work on the manuscript, when I look at Facebook and email and maybe work on a weekly column or a bog post and then go to church.
Except today I didn’t go to church, because all of wonderful sudden, it worked. No maybe about it. Nope, it really worked. This does not mean my editor will be as thrilled as I am. He may say No or Try again or What were you thinking? I can’t control that. But for now, it is fist-pumping time, because of course I can do it—I just did!
I love revisions.