So, today. Trying to get the intro down to my stupid fucking memoir that i want to burn into the damn ground because I’m on draft 4 and I still feel like it’s shit.
My dad is yelling at the AI phone rep ‘SPEAK TO A REPRESENTATIVE’
His three dogs are all barking in circles around me
I have my headphones in, trying to drown it out, trying to stop the tears, I won’t cry I won’t cry damnit I’m gonna cry, because I just realized that my 4th draft is NOT AS GOOD AS MY SECOND DRAFT FUCK MEEEEE
A month and a half of work. A month and a half of 60 hour weeks! And it’s WORSE than before??? Are you KIDDING me
deeeeeep breathhhhhhhhhhhh that sounds like an eagle screaming
exhale that sounds like maniacal laughter/ a breakdown / crashing tf out
Has anyone else had something like this happen to them?
Anyhow. Today was rough. Wondered if maybe I was a shit writer and I picked the wrong career path. Wondered if I would ever write a half-decent book. Wondered if I should have kept my job in tech and never dared to have any dreams because they’ll all fail me in the end anyway.
Shut the laptop, went for a long walk in the woods with my dad, stargazed on the back porch while watching fireflies, listened to crickets and frogs, and felt the life return to me.
All I have is my attitude and my effort.
So, yes, my 2nd draft is somehow better than my 4th. What does that teach me? What can I take from this?
I can take a lot from this.
The structure of my book improved by Draft 4- but I cut out a lot to find my book’s spine – and in so doing, that scalpel also carved out my book’s soul.
What if I could go back to the soul part (aka draft two) and flow with it using my new structure skills? Like, instead of cutting stuff out because it’s too flowery, lean IN to the pretty, and allow the knife to cut along those lines while still telling a cohesive story? Would that work?
Maybe. I spent the last hour furiously typing and I actually have an intro that feels a little like magic. It’s so good I wish I could share it with you right now- like, I’m proud of it. And I think I can maintain the spine, too.
If I can just continue this vibe for the rest of the book, I’ll really have something on my hands.
I guess there will probably be so many more days like this one. Where the book feels like it’s taking forever and I feel like I’m gonna end up living in a cardboard box under a bridge, and everyone’s gonna laugh and be like, that dumb hoe really thought she could write, what a loser.
I wonder if all authors have moments like these.
If what separates the successful from the ‘if onlys’, is how many times they keep on going regardless.
No matter what, I swear, I will keep on going regardless.
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