I haven’t blogged for a while. I’ve had my head down, working on a rewrite of my second book, which means Christmas and New Year passed in a bit of a blur. For three months I got up at five to write before the school run, stayed at my desk all day, and returned to it once the children were in bed. I took the first draft of my book, tore it apart and wrote it again, stripping out sub-plots, removing characters, and tightening the pace.
It was better. Much better. But it wasn’t good enough. Two weeks ago I threw away what I had spent the last nine months working on.
The decision wasn’t made in a fit of pique, like a temperamental artist hurling his canvas to the ground. It was measured and considered; taken after discussions with my extremely wise agent and my exceptionally talented editor. It was a decision that was hard to make, yet ultimately very easy because there was really no alternative. They weren’t terrible words, they just weren’t the right ones.
It’s hard to throw away 90,000 words: to file them away in a folder marked ‘unused’ because it’s less painful than hitting the delete key. These words represent months of work; hours of time when I could have been sleeping, eating, playing with my children.
Ditching a manuscript is a little like ending a relationship you know was going nowhere. Your ego takes a hit, but it’s coupled with a sense of relief that you no longer have to pretend everything is marvellous. The day of the decision I cried a lot. I sobbed through several phone calls before holding it together long enough to attend parents’ evening at the children’s school, then I came home and drank copious amounts of wine, and cried some more.
Over the next few days I resisted the temptation to start a ‘rebound’ book in a misplaced attempt to prove I could write. Instead I played with a new synopsis; floated some ideas around my head; allowed myself to feel relieved that I no longer had to write a story that just wasn’t working. I’m making myself slow down: remembering that the journey is as important as the destination, and that writing 5,000 words a day is no use at all unless they’re taking me in the right direction.
Soon I’ll be ready to start again: to put fingers to keyboard and make some new words. And this time they’ll be the right ones.