The second book I've ever written in my life is now finished. Well... Actually, I suppose it could use a little tweaking here and there, and I need to plow through it with a nice fine-toothed comb to ferret out whatever mistakes, inconsistencies, and outright displays of my own literary ineptitude are beaming from the myriad of pages. However, for all intents and purposes, the damn thing's done, and now I've got to get busy writing the next one (it's kind of a lather, rinse, repeat sort of philosophy I'm dealing with here).
It's a little strange, and I've always had a bit of a problem reading my own work with any sort of impartial, editorial eye. I have a huge problem when it comes to assuming things. For example, I'll get halfway through writing a sentence, and this annoying little chirp begins telling me that what I'm writing is not worth writing since everyone already knows what I'm trying to say, and I value the lives of my readers so much that I wouldn't waste a precious second of their time telling them things they already know.
See? I can do neurotic, people. I can do it very well.
There's also the constant, steady hum of doubt buzzing in my head as though it were a hailstorm upon my windowpanes. When I write something, it's never good. So, as you can imagine, when it comes time to pick through it, things can get a little frustrating. In fact, earlier, I poured through the first chapter, and though I believe in my heart that it's a damn fine piece of work, there's also a nagging little voice questioning whether or not what I've written is anywhere good enough.
Then again, it's always a little odd trying to define something such as this as good or not based solely upon my own silly notions. Trust me. There's probably a billion things out there which I consider good that would cause most people to scrunch up their faces. Spam. Anchovies. Cheese in a can. They're all good to me.
Now, getting the thing published?
That's a whole different kettle of fish. But, considering that I wrote this novel with the intention of eventually getting it published somewhere, I suppose that, in time, it will be. And, you reading this will most likely be among the first to know once that happens. For the record though, I'm not in that big of a hurry. It's just dandy to be at this point.
So, I'm giving myself a happy pat on the back atthe moment. Of course, I'm certain all that will change when I wake up tomorrow morning and realize that I've got a mountain of editing and rewriting to take care of, and thus, I'll probably be a bitter little maniac once again when I see that even though I am finished, I'm still not finished.
Now I know why writers drink so much.
Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 11/28/2007 08:12:00 PM