Whenever I am finishing and OTHERS will now shortly have to read it, once again I start to have pre-publication terrors. I can’t help but think: What if I’m too close to its writing trees and I have failed to see the reading forest?
“You seem to know lots about what Frenchwomen think,” my [English] wife has teased me more than once. Actually, no, I don’t believe I do…
I fully understand now why some authors do go loopy or worse – and especially when embarking on a several years’ long writing effort.
How many of us deep down desire to get away from all of the “noise” of this century in which we must live? How many of us wish to saunter on a secluded country lane by the side of our well-dressed handsome gentleman or bonnet-wearing lovely lady?
Because once the last word is on the page, well, that’s it. Done. You have become just someone who has written a book. That was then. What are you doing now?
My wife had to have a minor (we hope) procedure and *chose* to have it yesterday rather than a weekday. She was offered the option of the Sunday appointment and we had supposed the hospital would be quieter and so it might all be a bit less stressful. “Quieter” turned out to be, well, an understatement.
I sense I am approaching *that* time for a soon to be new book where I sit back and take stock of the draft as a whole. Soon tweaking with “this and that” begins. I’ve learned that in some ways this is also the toughest time.
I had one of those writing moments early on Saturday morning here at my dad’s house too. These things often hit us in the middle of the night. Actually… in that case I mean about 4 o’clock in the morning.
Occasionally the American featured celebrity tracing his/her family tree comes across as – much as I hate to say this – worryingly clueless about wider history and lives lived prior to the present.
As they say, Oh, My, god. I have a new novel I want to finish. This is not exactly great.
So change is happening. We are moving. My posts this week, possibly into next… well, there may not be any.
I will always remember what I was told after I revealed in 2013 I was writing Passports and showed the initial draft first to my (English) Mrs., and then to an English woman friend. Having read it, separately they both noticed that I was inadvertently mixing American-English language forms and British-English.
In my early-middle twenties, I thought much that same way as he writes. It all seemed hypocritical, absurd, and unnecessary. Then I met someone who suggested a perspective I had never before really considered…
Don’t groan. I know you find that all rather obscure history stuff. But I find it fascinating, okay.
And you never know when you might find it useful knowledge…
I admit I adore some of those “who” I write, and my hope is that over the course of a book that a reader comes to do so as well.