Saturday, January 16, 2016

Write. Erase. Cry. Rewrite. Cry some more. Rewrite Again

I found this site the other night called AutoCrit and let me just tell you...they are BRUTUAL...and I won't crushed my basically spelled out in no uncertain terms, that my book was garbage..did I let it get inside my head and feed the demons, the ones that hold court over all my insecurities; the ones who are steadily whispering "You're not good enough," or "You can't do this," and "You're not talented enough" "no one will ever read this."

I almost cried when I read the analysis. Yeah, real tears people. Big fat ones that make you look all snotty nosed, puffy and plain old hideous.

I shut my computer that night, grabbed a book and didn't read, I studied. I dissected each paragraph of that sucker, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and they were doing right.

I didn't get it. Maybe because the book I was reading was written from a third person perspective and I write from a first person perspective. Sure, I convinced myself, that must be it.

I fell asleep with the thought of, "It'll be better tomorrow. I'll get back at it, figure out what I'm doing incorrectly and make it right.

Did that happen?

Of course not.

I woke up like a petulant child who didn't get a slice of cake because I didn't eat dinner. Bitter and angry.

I've been watching a facebook friend struggle to finish her manuscript (she's been working on it for as long as we've been friends which is about six years now) and she recently self published it to Amazon.

I am amazingly proud of her for accomplishing her goal, her dream, her work. She struggled, she fought, she clawed her way out of some muck to get where she is now.

Am I jealous?

Of course. She accomplished something that I've dreamed of doing since I was in sixth grade. So I pouted. Then I realized (with the help of some pretty amazing ladies, and my husband) that I have what it takes to do this, if and only if, I am willing to grow a spine and learn.

I won't lie. When I wrote the particular book I'm working on rewriting, I thought it was God's gift to the literary world. I smiled down at the completed manuscript like a proud parent, gave it to all my friends to read, bragged that I wrote a book. I am proud of my novel, yes, I am. I did something that Ive always wanted to do, and I feel like I told a good story. were my thoughts grandiose? yes. did I

Then it all came crashing down around me in a few words on a website.

When I went back and re-read the analysis, I saw exactly what I was doing wrong, and what I could do to fix it. I was telling my readers the story, not presenting them with the story so they could see it through their own eyes. I was forcing my words on them, holding them hostage to my version of it and I just ruined whatever story there was for them.

So anyways, a few nights ago, I went back to it, opened the existing story and a new word document and started rewriting. When I reran it through analyzer, the story came back with a better review.

So once again, I tweaked, rewrote and tweaked some more.

and when I ran it a third time it came back almost spot on to where it needed to be. As good as it could be without a human reading and analyzing it.

So there ya have it. Nothing is perfect the first time around. I am not perfect and quite frankly it's okay.

1 comment:

  1. There are times I think maybe I have a writer in me, because I'm nearly constantly daydreaming, spinning all sorts of tales in my head all the time. But the idea of sharing them with someone else, the possibility of them telling me it's not as good as I think it is.... it's extremely terrifying. So I think you're incredibly brave to face that and to let yourself grow from it.



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