Today is one of those days when I wish I weren't a writer who put years (I'm embarrassed to say how many) into her book, and who just got feedback from her writing partner, whom she trusts, to basically can two chapters and write them all over again.
Sigh. Panic. Backpedaling. Anxiety.
And the worst thing is? I knew she was right. I knew she was going to say that and I couldn't do anything about it. I just couldn't make those two chapters better. From where they started and where they ended, I couldn't see any other way.
But now I do. Through discussion with my brilliant writing-partner, I came up with compelling, deeper ways to rewrite the chapters. It's conveniently only in my head. In about two sentences.
But my numbers have dwindled down again. Significantly.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
So here I am, after about four hours of recovering from this review I deserved, in a very Sherlock Holmes red velvet chair in a cafe, about to dive in, once again, for God knows what time, into those two chapters.
One, about my character Ana dating her college professor.
One, about her reaching out to her old boyfriend when she was lonely. In a nutshell. It's of course much complicated than that. (Everything is.) The Professor is Muslim, she's Serbian Orthodox, it's war time in the Balkans...
I honestly don't know how some people whip out a book every year of so. It's damn hard to write a good book. It's easy to write crap, but damn hard to write with depth and significance.
And another thing? This is why I need my writing partner more than anything. She called BS on my timeline. My timeline, in my final book of my Book, is all over the place. So now I have to fix that too.
Maybe I should have ordered another happy hour cocktail instead of Kale/Apple smoothie.