Unlike many authors, my writing journey didn’t begin when I was a child, but as an adult when I finished a book and, disappointed in the ending, thought, “I could have done better.” In my innocence regarding what it takes to write a novel and the publishing industry, I started down the path of creativity. Since then, I’ve realized many, many things. For example, “better” is subjective. Several editors and the publishing house that published that book believed it was good, otherwise why print it?
I have a friend who has dabbled in several businesses. When I met her, she offered editing and helped writers self-publish their books. She read one of my novels and thought it was the worst book ever. That same book has won three awards. She compared my writing to previous manuscripts she’d edited. The judges in the contests I entered compared my book to several others. My friend likes my poetry with the same energy she dislikes my prose. (These might be harder to compare, like a painting and a sculpture.)
I’ve shared my journey the last several months in returning not only to writing after a year of creating other materials, but then setting aside nonfiction for fiction. I write some every day. I have no time limit, and I’m not aiming for a word count. What I’ve noticed is that it gets a little easier each day. Like turning on a rusted faucet, it takes a while for the murky water to pass before clear water flows.
When my inner critic starts with the usual lecture, I shut it down quickly. I’m practicing writing. Getting back into this particular fictional world and reacquainting myself with the setting, the characters, and the mysteries to be solved. When the critic wants to compare my process now with my process in the past, I tell it I’ve been away for a while, but writing is familiar. The words are returning.
Last night, while reading the first book in a series by an author whom I’ve read many of her books in more than one of her series, I found myself falling out of the story. No book is free from typos. I know that sometimes they’re created when the manuscript is formatted. Then I began to notice craft things that had me stumbling, rereading, looking back, rereading, moving forward, stumbling again. I like the premise of the story. I can see where she’ll get ideas for characters and plots in the next books. But I’m not sure I’ll be spending any more time in this series.
Here again is comparison. I’ve critiqued other writer’s manuscripts. I’ve judged my own. (I used to go through my edits a dozen or more times!) Over the years, I’ve learned to set aside books that don’t keep my attention. I find myself thinking about this book and my own story. Not that I think I could do better at writing her story, but I could do better at writing my own.
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