I haven’t blogged for a while. I’ve had my head down, working on a rewrite of my second book, which means Christmas and New Year passed in a bit of a blur. For three months I got up at five to write before the school run, stayed at my desk all day, and returned to it once the children were in bed. I took the first draft of my book, tore it apart and wrote it again, stripping out sub-plots, removing characters, and tightening the pace.
It was better. Much better. But it wasn’t good enough. Two weeks ago I threw away what I had spent the last nine months working on.
The decision wasn’t made in a fit of pique, like a temperamental artist hurling his canvas to the ground. It was measured and considered; taken after discussions with my extremely wise agent and my exceptionally talented editor. It was a decision that was hard to make, yet ultimately very easy because there was really no alternative. They weren’t terrible words, they just weren’t the right ones.
It’s hard to throw away 90,000 words: to file them away in a folder marked ‘unused’ because it’s less painful than hitting the delete key. These words represent months of work; hours of time when I could have been sleeping, eating, playing with my children.
Ditching a manuscript is a little like ending a relationship you know was going nowhere. Your ego takes a hit, but it’s coupled with a sense of relief that you no longer have to pretend everything is marvellous. The day of the decision I cried a lot. I sobbed through several phone calls before holding it together long enough to attend parents’ evening at the children’s school, then I came home and drank copious amounts of wine, and cried some more.
Over the next few days I resisted the temptation to start a ‘rebound’ book in a misplaced attempt to prove I could write. Instead I played with a new synopsis; floated some ideas around my head; allowed myself to feel relieved that I no longer had to write a story that just wasn’t working. I’m making myself slow down: remembering that the journey is as important as the destination, and that writing 5,000 words a day is no use at all unless they’re taking me in the right direction.
Soon I’ll be ready to start again: to put fingers to keyboard and make some new words. And this time they’ll be the right ones.
Wow, so much luck with the next few months and can’t wait to read the right words. Cesca x
Thanks Cesca! I’m looking forward to writing them! x
Oh I really feel for you. Bravo for having the courage to start over again. And as I’m sure you do, bear in mind that those 90,000 words aren’t wasted. If nothing else, they’re practice.
Thanks Claire. Yes, absolutely: nothing is ever a complete waste.
Wow. Big move. Must have been hard. xx
It was one of those odd decisions that was both easy and hard at the same time! A ‘no brainer’, as they say, if a little painful to actually follow through with.
Brave decision – hope the next words you write will feel good x
Thank you! I’m feeling optimistic!
Crikey Clare, how rotten. I bet the next one will be bloody ace though because you’re brilliant and it takes a very cool person to walk away when they know something is wrong. Tons of luck on the next one xx
It’s really not that bad. Not now. I’m quite excited about starting over!
This is what I love about you – that you aren’t afraid to say that something isn’t right and to do the brave thing and say enough, this isn’t working and start again – well done!
Thank you xx
Ouch – but inspiring and revealing to know that it released you to fly free again. Well done you.
It did! Thank you.
Ouch, I feel for you. Still a good decision though, and thank you for sharing the learning with those of us still on the path to book one. X
Thank you! It doesn’t seem to get any easier once you’re published!
It’s a brave choice but also a professional one. I did something similar a few years ago and although I felt awful, I’m really glad in retrospect that my ‘apprenticeship novel’ wasn’t published. It’s worth hanging on in there for the right book.
Thank you so much. I wrote an ‘apprenticeship’ novel (great term!) before my first published one and rather naively thought that might be the only novel I’d ever throw away. Apparently not 😉
Ah Clare, I feel for you. You’re tremendously brave and I admire you hugely. Best foot forward; cheering for you. Onwards! To Glory!
To Glory!! 🙂
Feel for you so much Clare. That must have been so difficult. All I know that your first book was spectacular. I would put it in my top 5 of all time, and I have read a lot of books. The plot of the book was extremely clever and completely drew me in, which is no mean task for me, I usually guess it very quickly.
I am saying this as I would find it very difficult to start again and find another idea that would be just as good. I am sure you will do it as you are a fantastic writer, but be good to yourself, the idea for your first book took a long time to come to fruition and this one may need to too.
As someone who gave up a career I loved as I had no time for my children and I believe gave me Cancer with the stress of juggling, family and work, I am very well placed and indeed have been given a very rare insight into what is important. Time with your family and children is precious and you need to reflect on the massive achievement of your first book. Revel it it because you deserve it so much.
Apologies for this long lecture.
Oh Gill, what a lovely comment! You are absolutely right, and I am going to let this next book happen organically. Thank you for your kind words.
Blimey. Well, don’t throw it away completely, will you? I mean, surely at some point it might come in…
I love your honesty. One thing that writers/bloggers often do, is say how hard the process has been, but it’s usually from the standpoint of the happy ending (“and then my novel was published, and it was all worthwhile!”). It’s rather refreshing (for us, not for you), to hear the nitty gritty grimness of it, from someone in the midst of it all.
It’s not thrown away, but I doubt very much I’ll ever use it. I know it sounds horrific, but it really doesn’t feel that bad. Lots of people write books that never get published. We assume that once we have our first novel published we’ll never have to throw another one away, but that’s not the case!
And no, I wouldn’t publish under a pseudonym. It’s not a book I want to publish.
Why don’t you publish it under a pseudonym? Your reputation will remain intact, but I can’t believe it was really that bad. Anything you wrote couldn’t be…
Go on, send it to a few other publishers.