The Fear of Letting Go
Posted 15 Feb 2016
drafting
Starting over.
I ought to be frustrated.
To be fair, I am frustrated. I've been working on one manuscript for thirteen years, and I'm starting over.
But more than frustrated, I am excited.
And more than excited, today, I'm terrified. There's a voice in my head yelling at me that I'm being ridiculous. This time around, I've hired an editor. What child is ever scared of crossing the street, when they have a parent to hold their hand?
I have confidence in my ability to write an enjoyable scene. I think what I'm lacking is confidence in how not to over-stuff, or under-stuff, a story. The previous draft was bloated with thirteen years worth of "wouldn't it be neat if..." concepts and "oh and then we could also..!" details that forgot to step aside.
The draft played host to three One Rings, six Bilbos, two Aragorns, and ten Gandalfs.
Right this moment I have a new, fairly solid, chapter one. One chapter that managed to cut twenty chapters of fat from my previous draft. Twenty chapters of characters, foreshadowing, exposition, so that what I thought I knew about my story is not necessarily so any longer. It feels like standing on the edge of some great cliff. I can't tell if there's a magical invisible bridge, nor can I see what's hidden in misty depths below. Do I jump? Do I toe forward in the hopes of finding the straight, lofty, path across?
Next step, in my mind, is to draft the outline of the story from here to the end (or perhaps from the end back to chapter one). And then I will write chapter two.
I know what I have to do. But I'm stuck here, on this cliff.
I am having trouble letting go of the baggage of the previous drafts. Letting go of the thought that, "surely I must be nearly done with this book," and the corresponding urge to proceed with extreme care and precision.
This character, or that character, may get cut. Already has been cut. Am I okay with that? This scene, or that scene, will disappear. Has disappeared. Can I live with that?
I repeatedly get admonished for letting the imagined sequel inform too many of my decisions for the first book. That's a fair criticism, but... Yeah. I'll stop there. Enough with the buts.
So if I let go of where I think this book needs to end, what happens? Can I outline as freely as I'm capable of writing my scenes? Does the mist below contain an adventure in new possibilities? Or will I be as blind down there as I feel up here?
What a terrifying thought, to let the story be in complete control. I have blisters from holding so tightly to the story's reins. Maybe it's time to give the story its head and let the blisters fade.