If Chimpanzees Could Type

Okay, so I wrote a book. In record time. I patted myself on the back for having worked feverishly and not overthinking it. I just threw words on paper in a way I hoped made sense. And it DID make sense while I was writing it. Now that I’m in the process of revising, what seemed coherent at the time with flashes of brilliance now looks like something a chimpanzee might have banged out. If chimpanzees could type. Clunky phrasings. Transitions that make no sense. Characters that are living, breathing entities in my mind but two-dimensional on paper. A plethora of excess verbiage.

What the freaking frack?

And here’s the scariest part: It happens every time. Every. Damn. Time. As my long-suffering husband frequently reminds me, he’s been through this tearing-my-hair-out, questioning-my-purpose-in-life phase with every book I’ve written. It’s all part of the process. It’s what separates the amateur from the professional writer: We know it’s a process. We build our plots and characters through careful layering. The brilliant work of fiction that springs fully-realized from the page in its infancy? It’s a rare beast, almost unheard of. I don’t know any published writer who doesn’t require editing and who hasn’t revised their manuscript multiple times prior to publication. Each of my novels has required a minimum of 5 drafts.

And yet…

I’m still tearing my hair out and questioning my purpose in life. Sadly, that’s part of the process too. Would that I could avoid it. The only remedy I know of is to bake a cake. With cakes if you follow the recipe it usually comes out perfect on the first try.

Okay, enough rambling…time to get back to it. Hopefully, by the time I finish this draft my book will make perfect sense again. If not, there’s always the next draft.