No I’m not talking about cooking. I’m talking about writing.
I’m a lazy writer, just like I’m a lazy artist, a lazy mom, a lazy housekeeper (and the list could go on). I want to exert the very least amount of energy possible. That’s the reason you’ll find my kids pawing through the dryer on any given morning looking for a clean pair of pants. True, there’s usually a clean pair, but if I wasn’t so lazy those pants would have been folded and put away by now.
I’m the same way when it comes to writing. I like to hope that things are “good enough”, that my readers won’t mind doing a little rummaging through the dryer. Too bad that deep down I know “good enough” isn’t really good enough.
In many ways writing is like doing the laundry: it’s a dirty job that no one else is willing to do for you and the moment you think it’s done there always seems to be more. But unlike the laundry, writing is something that I’d ultimately like to share with the world. I can’t just keep shoving it in the wash. At some point it needs to stay clean.
For a few months I’ve thought my manuscript was done. Of course there are always things that jump out, asking to be fixed (I don’t know that I can ever be truly satisfied). But I thought it was good… Good enough.
Luckily, a new friend of mine pointed out to me that this manuscript had the potential of not just being good, but being great. And so I was left with two choices: leave it like it is, a good story, or face the fact that with some hard work the story could really take off.
Normally I’m satisfied with pretty good, but not when it comes to this. So today I sat down and plotted out a whole new middle, five chapters that need to be completely rewritten. But I’m not dreading it. In fact, I’m itching to get going.
Chop, chop, chop.