Amaranth
About ten months ago, I sold my first novel, Amaranth to Juliet Ulman at Bantam/Spectra. I've mentioned the thing off and on since then, in the occasional blog-post, but really, things have been understandably quiet as I waited out the process. About four months ago, I handed in a second draft of the story, based on a conversation Juliet and I had up in the Governor's Club Bar in the Madison Concourse Hotel. It was very auspicious, sitting up that high, watching a massive thunderstorm roll in through the massive windows.
And then, as a first-timer, the fretting began. Would the revision be good enough? Would I have to kill off all of my "darlings"? Am I not a Special SnowflakeTM?
Last week, David Pomerico over-nighted me his and Juliet's edits on the manuscript (much to my surprise-I was expecting regular snail-mail). Nothing wakes you up on a Saturday morning like finding your long-awaited story hulking outside your front door. And after an exciting afternoon of looking over the comments, that's when I realized what a complete dolt I'd been, fretting like that. Editors are not your enemies-at least, David and Juliet were not my enemies. When I'd finished the second draft, back in Oct./Nov., naturally I figured I was a genius. Writing could not possibly get better than what I'd sent.
Of course, not so, but isn't it pretty to think so?
Anyway, with their help, this third (fourth?) draft is way bitchin'. The myth of the solitary writer, hammering brilliance out of his or her fingertips, is crap. It's usually a collaboration. I took about five days to incorporate their changes and re-arrange some chapters that were, shall we say, not quite cutting it. It was a bit of an editing binge, but since I work as a visiting assistant professor, I've got nice big gaps between "work days" in my week. Today I finally finished the last polish, let Rima (my first, best critic-when I can make her teary-eyed (via writing!), then I'm usually doing something right) give it the once-over, and then vacuum-tubed it back to H.Q. In a few weeks, we'll see how well I did. I'm betting there will be another draft or two, probably with fewer Big changes, so in the end, my wart-of-a-first-draft should be a stylin' beauty mark.
So, some action shots:
(Revision Central, before the manuscript ended up in about five different piles, as a result of some franken-chaptering)
(A little revision help, cat-style. Usually, every time I left the study, she camped herself on the manuscript.)
So, that was exciting. One of these days, it's going to have a cover, and book design, and a barcode. Won't that be a trip?
Originally published at Darin Bradley.
And then, as a first-timer, the fretting began. Would the revision be good enough? Would I have to kill off all of my "darlings"? Am I not a Special SnowflakeTM?
Last week, David Pomerico over-nighted me his and Juliet's edits on the manuscript (much to my surprise-I was expecting regular snail-mail). Nothing wakes you up on a Saturday morning like finding your long-awaited story hulking outside your front door. And after an exciting afternoon of looking over the comments, that's when I realized what a complete dolt I'd been, fretting like that. Editors are not your enemies-at least, David and Juliet were not my enemies. When I'd finished the second draft, back in Oct./Nov., naturally I figured I was a genius. Writing could not possibly get better than what I'd sent.
Of course, not so, but isn't it pretty to think so?
Anyway, with their help, this third (fourth?) draft is way bitchin'. The myth of the solitary writer, hammering brilliance out of his or her fingertips, is crap. It's usually a collaboration. I took about five days to incorporate their changes and re-arrange some chapters that were, shall we say, not quite cutting it. It was a bit of an editing binge, but since I work as a visiting assistant professor, I've got nice big gaps between "work days" in my week. Today I finally finished the last polish, let Rima (my first, best critic-when I can make her teary-eyed (via writing!), then I'm usually doing something right) give it the once-over, and then vacuum-tubed it back to H.Q. In a few weeks, we'll see how well I did. I'm betting there will be another draft or two, probably with fewer Big changes, so in the end, my wart-of-a-first-draft should be a stylin' beauty mark.
So, some action shots:
(Revision Central, before the manuscript ended up in about five different piles, as a result of some franken-chaptering)
(A little revision help, cat-style. Usually, every time I left the study, she camped herself on the manuscript.)
So, that was exciting. One of these days, it's going to have a cover, and book design, and a barcode. Won't that be a trip?
Originally published at Darin Bradley.