When I was a kid, I thought Real Writers sat down at a typewriter, wrote a story, sent it to New York City, and about a month later, a finished hardcover book would arrive in the mail. If there was any revision it all, it would be grammar and punctuation. That was the mark of a professional writer, I thought, when you could get it right on the first try.
When I've done school visits, I always make sure I tell them that this is not at all how it goes.
I'm grateful for revision now, because it allows me to be freewheeling and ridiculous in early drafts. Change point of view midway. End the story six different times. Let a character curse! You're not supposed to get it right the first time. The existence of revision allows you to get it wrong on purpose on the road to getting it right.
Some stories change a little bit, and some of them change a lot. The final version of No Boring Stories! was version 87, and the plot changed drastically in most of those different versions (the heart of the story stayed the same -- for me, the "idea" of a story is often that heart, and then I write and write to figure out the best way to be true to that heart).
I wrote the first version of Rick the Rock of Room 214 in 2018. It was about a girl named Shirley and her best friend, who is a rock. Shirley brings Rick to school with her and they learn things together, and they go on little adventures. They discuss their favorite words. Halfway through the story, this happens:
They get stuck in the shed, and Shirley tries to throw Rick through the window to save them, but he's too small. There's another rock in the shed, a bigger rock named Beatrice, and Shirley throws Beatrice through the window, and has to leave Rick, her best friend, behind.
This is a terrible ending for a book, especially a picture book. "It was hot. [the shed is on fire]" is A LOT for a picture book. But it is also a little poem about how I felt in October of 2018 (it was the dog-in-the-burning-room meme, all the time). We were about two years into a presidency that went against everything I believed, and so, in the process of trying to write a fun book about a girl and her best rock buddy: "It was hot. [the shed was on fire]" and they are no longer having an intellectual discussion about vocabulary and are now doing everything they can to survive.
It's hard to write a fun picture book in an anxious time of crisis.
And sometimes it makes you feel better to figure out how to get the book right.
There are no fires in the final version of Rick the Rock of Room 214. The rock doesn't talk, and Shirley is still there, but you don't know her name anymore (though now you do).
You write the first version, and you ask yourself "what are some things that could happen here?" Then you decide what you want the story to be, what story you want to tell. I usually end up writing dozens more versions on the way to getting it right.
An author sits down at a keyboard, and writes a story. And then rewrites it, throws away most of it, and revises some more. The author puts the story away for a few months and tries again. The author asks her friends for help. Finally, the author sends the book off (sometimes to New York City, sometimes not) and, about two years later, a finished hardcover book arrives in the mail.
(Pssst: go ahead and preorder Rick the Rock of Room 214 now if you want to see how I changed this story from one about burning up in a shed to one about a journey of identity and the importance of friendship.)
Thoughts and Links
Absolutely in love with this McSweeney's by Karen Baecht: "Thank You For Calling the Perimenopause Hotline, Where Our Hold Times Are Completely Unpredictable."
It's now been about a year and a half since I've had any alcohol, thanks to perimenopause, which totally stole my body's ability to deal with even a tiny glass of wine. It's actually been great, though. I sleep so much better. I do sometimes get one of those fancy modern alcohol-free drinks. They're all adaptogen-infused yuzu seltzers, pretty tasty, and incredibly expensive. This list of 21 mocktail recipes looks fun. I haven't made any yet, but this blueberry ginger one (or, excuse me, "blueberry ginger cooler" which is for sure fancier) sounds particularly great.
This is a random endorsement of Girlfriend Collective -- most of my exercise clothes are from them at this point, and I have two of their workout dresses, which I do not wear to work out, but just to exist on a hot day. (I think there's some sort of referral program, I don't know. That's not why I'm telling you about them. But I guess if you do decide you want to buy the same shorts and sports bra as me, let me know, and I'll figure out how to send you a code.)
I've been listening to a ton of the Financial Feminist podcast, and I'm learning a lot (about things I wish I had already known).
We got a big container of maple syrup from Bob's Sugarhouse on our way back from camping last month, and I've been using it to make Melissa Clark's Olive Oil Granola. So good.
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