RWA post last week where I mentioned I was facing a major rewrite on my current manuscript. Everyone offered such encouragement, I'd love to be able to tell you I immediately strapped myself to the chair and pounded out the revisions until fire flew from my fingertips. (A little Devil Went Down To Georgia reference for you this morning.)
Unfortunately, I'm a terrible liar.
As much as I appreciated all the support, I did anything I could to avoid opening that particular file.
Including, cleaning out my closet.
You can probably discern from the picture above, this task had become long overdue. My husband and I finally agreed. Just do it.
It didn't take days and days like I expected. We didn't argue. In fact, I knew the process was going entirely too smooth.
In my delirious state of pain, with my foot up and an ice pack that hurt worse than the throbbing, my brain started making an odd connection between editing and my closet.
Just stay with me here.
Too much that didn't belong.
(Yes, that is a hockey stick. Why do you ask?)
The flowers at the top there are my wedding bouquet...from 14 years ago. You don't even want to know what kind of "keepsakes" were in that box. Let's just say, I don't think I still need the confetti from my high school senior breakfast.
So, we had to unpack everything. Lay it all out and decide what truly mattered to the story. Or, what actually fit and belonged in the closet. This what the point I wanted to cry. And, it was before the chess board attacked me. Seeing it all out there was beyond overwhelming. There was no way we were ever going get this done. But, since our bed is actually underneath there some where, there was no way we couldn't get it done.
Talk about goal, motivation and conflict!
The basic framework needed more. Not much, just tearing down some old fixtures and installing new shelves. Just like my premise needs some tweaking and more inner conflict.
Finally, we ended up with this.
So, yesterday. I opened my manuscript and got started.
What's a few revisions after an accomplishment like that?