I'm back, sort of. With the exception of some trim work, the bathroom painting is now complete. Now we just have to put everything back together. As I spent the weekend painting, I couldn't help but draw the occasional comparison between remodeling and writing. You remove this, replace it with that. It moves even when you feel like you're getting nowhere. Its moving just a little at a time, thriving to become something remarkable that ultimately takes your breath away in that moment of completion. But that feeling of completion is short lived, just as it is when remodeling. The project is done, so you think. You stand back, take a look over the whole masterpiece and smile, but then your significant other reminds you that the whole thing would look better with new doors. You continue to smile, nod in agreement while envisioning the whole room with new doors (chapter eight could be deleted). But then you walk on and your handsome other begins to point out the chandelier from 1985 that needs to be replaced in the foyer (The first sentence of chapter two makes you sound like you're a hundred and twelve-not good). What color should we paint the kitchen? (Are there too many blue eyed faeries in the world already? Note: research this and change faerie number fours eyes to black. Wait! Scratch that, too close to Edward. Go for pink or maybe aqua marine.) Should we go ahead and get the granite counter tops when we paint next year or should we hold off? (What if my protagonist is too weak or strong? Ackola! What if nobody likes her? I can't relive high school through my own characters. I didn't like living through it in person. I just can't go back there.) What do you think of this light fixture? If the knobs on the vanity are nickel plated, shouldn't we get a nickel painted light fixture? Do you think anyone will notice if we don't? (I wonder if an editor will accept friggsville as a word. Oh god, what if said editor thinks that I might think its a real word and deems me too stupid to even have a book.) Suddenly you see everything that needs to be changed or replaced. The room begins to spin, stretch, tossing vertigo at you with every turn. Amazingly, your husband morphs into a laughing clown who seems to have snorted pixie sticks, and suddenly, just when you think it can't get any worse, the one and only Janet Reid shows up riding a saddled shark. You spend the rest of the afternoon powerless as the two of them make fun of your bathroom design and take turns flushing your manuscript down the new toilet. So in the end, writing is a lot like remodeling, and in knowing that, sometimes all you can do is rinse out the paintbrushes, close the computer, crawl into a ball, and wonder if sucking your thumb is truly optional.
After careful review of this post, I think I'll put off resuming revisions until tomorrow. Must be the paint fumes. (shrugs)
Happy Late Monday People!