Riding the revision seesaw
The reliability of self-doubt when finishing comes into view.
Before I tell you about something that happened in my writing life last week, THANK YOU to everyone who read my recent poem published in Naugatuck River Review. It means so much that you took the time to connect, pass it on, and share your own stories.
Nine months ago an idea hit me with a jolt.
I hadn’t touched my manuscript in months—there’s a longer story about that I’ll have to tell another time—but the most important thing to know is I was filled with questions that didn’t seem to have answers yet.
It was a long waiting season.
Mostly, I wanted to know if there was another way to tell my story, and wondered if I was too close to truly see it. I wrestled with this for ages because I worked hard to tease out the structure I did have (which worked!) but in the back of my mind, something still nagged.
A potential answer—or at least a clear direction to explore—arrived on the brink of summer. It was hot. I think I was on a walk, wearing a tank top and hat. Mostly what I remember is the deep knowing I felt in my solar plexus, like the idea came up and out, fully formed.
I was simultaneously excited and terrified. What if it works? How long would it take for me to actually attempt this? Would it ruin the existing flow I created?
Again, more questions.
A few weeks later I started dismantling things and putting it all back together. Even if it wouldn’t keep in the end, I had to know I tried. I read three additional books for research purposes, then tackled both restructuring my existing manuscript and incorporating said research into the places it belonged.
It was slow, but that probably doesn’t surprise you. I didn’t write every day. I literally worked at the pace of my body and my own capacity in the midst of everything else.
Last week, on the first day of spring, I finished this revision. (!!!)
I printed a clean copy, held it close to smell the warm paper and ink, then placed the stack in my closet where it will sit for at least the next three to four weeks before I put on the finishing touches.
In the five years I’ve worked on this project, I thought I was done at least two other times, maybe more. But now I feel closer to the end than I ever have before.
At first I was proud of myself high on creative momentum. I trusted myself! I let the process be what it wanted to be! This lasted maybe two days before I heard a familiar voice.
This isn’t good enough.
It won’t matter.
What a waste of time.
No one will care about this but you.
Well hello, inner critic. Right on time. This was not my first encounter, which I wrote about last year:
“We all experience imposter syndrome, wishing for confidence but recoiling into ourselves instead. Yet I’ve come to realize that at the core, these more difficult emotions and postures are actually protective. And this simple shift makes it a lot less scary.
When framed this way, self-doubt/resistance/fear, whatever you want to call it, only wants to keep us safe.
It belongs.
Like inclement weather ever-present on the horizon, we can’t blow it away, but when we welcome the rain or the storm or the blistering heat, it will eventually pass.”
Tiny signals traveling through the void of space
In all my years as a writer, one obstacle tends to rise and recede like the tide: self-doubt. It’s one of the most common afflictions to creativity, and I used to think it was some kind of deficiency, a flaw that might fade with time and experience. But I no longer believe it’s something to be stamped out. In fact, my r…
That’s the energy I’m holding as winter turns to spring. The promise of something nearly finished, birds building nests in my yard, and thawing out from a long winter.
Until next time,
Nicole
How many times have I said to myself, "no one will care about this but you." But I keep on writing, because even if it's just for me, I need to write it. As always, thank you Nicole for your words of wisdom and encouragement! Speaking of manuscripts, I wrote 19 chapters of my book and then decided to completely restructure it last month! (headslap here) But I'm loving the new format, it feels so much better, and oddly makes me so happy.
Appreciated this post, your frank revelation about what a writer just may go through to get to realization of her efforts. Deep thanks.