For the past few months, I’ve been blogging about the challenges of the early stages of writing a book. Mostly these have to do with fear, procrastination, and stall. And mostly the way to deal with these is to just write.

I know. It sounds simple. And I know. It isn’t. Yet that is what experienced writers know. It is the habit of writing—writing badly, very often, that makes them experienced. It actually doesn’t get better—we just get used to how bad it can be at the beginning, how scary and daunting. And we soldier on.

Once we accept the badness and scariness and imperfection of it all, it gets quite fun. We can even get in the creative flow. And there is not a lot not x-rated that is more fun than that. Well, maybe yellow cake with chocolate icing.

But then we come to the next stage of writing: revision. And here we have a whole new set of challenges. Just when we were getting the hang of it, we have new things to learn.

But we love learning, right?

So over the next months I am going to be talking about my best ideas on how to deal with the challenges of revision.

There are many, many ways to make revision harder than it might be. And I have tried them all. Some I have just driven around the block and realized they weren’t for me. Some I have taken home for a while and then thought, nope, that won’t work. And some I have married. So, speaking from direct person experience, here are three ways I know to make writing hard.

  1. Listen to everyone. When I first started writing, it was because my therapist told me to. First I started writing in a journal every day. And then he, in desperation, said he thought I might find writing longer, more serious pieces rewarding (as in therapeutic). And they were. They were right up until I took a class and not everyone in the class loved what I wrote. What???? I loved it, thought it was perfect, and could NOT understand what they meant. But I tried to fix it, following everyone’s advice. It ended up a mess—a patchwork of my attempts to please everyone in the group.
  2. Listen to no one. When I was in graduate school we had visiting teachers come to the University of Houston to teach us regularly. We were used to our regular teachers and knew who to listen to. When Vivian Gornick came she read my short story “The Algebra of Snow” and liked it, but she thought it should be made obedient to the central metaphor of mathematics. What???? That sounded like some kind of S&M to me. Years later, I realized that, in order to make the story better and publishable, I needed to , wait for it, make it obedient to the central metaphor of mathematics. Oh.
  3. Think that writing well is easy. We are readers and we love reading and we have a story. And then we try to write it. And it doesn’t come out so well. So we try again. Not that good either. Again. Stinks. Again. Getting there. Again. Improved. And so on. There is a joke going around that a writer and a neurosurgeon were at a party together and the neurosurgeon said to the writer, “What a coincidence! When I retire I’m planning on writing a book.” The writer answered, “Wow, that is a coincidence! When I retire, I’m planning on doing some neurosurgery.” Writing is a craft that takes years to get good at. It is a great, great craft that is endlessly interesting to learn. We are never done. That is a good thing, if you like to learn. Frustrating if you thought it was going to come out right the first time. If you want to read a eloquent essay on the subject by Ann Padgett, here is a part of it.

When I was a new mother I wanted to be a perfect mother. It really didn’t take too long to find that I was a far, far cry from a perfect mother. I was fortunate to have a book fall into my hands called something like “The Good-Enough Parent.” I learned very quickly that I didn’t have to be perfect; I did have to be good enough. And lots of good will and learning and practice and testing and getting feedback and learning the new stage of things and getting more feedback and patience and humor, I have grown up sons who are a deep satisfaction to be with.

My parenting and my books are all very very imperfect. And they are very fun, funny, rewarding, and deeply satisfying—when they aren’t challenging, frustrating, and deeply deeply annoying.

Make it easy on yourself. Accept that the process is long and hard, listen to your own counsel, and to that of people who have the kind of experience you want.