I need to come to a decision. My goal for the Doomy Summer of Editing DOOM is not working out. Mad goals are fun, but when I’m sacrificing quality for crazy, that’s a problem. Especially when it’s making me stressed and miserable.
The problem isn’t my procrastinating–that’s a symptom. The fact is that when dealing in creativity, one can only work so fast for so long before things blow up in one’s face or worse, get predictable.
If I had to get this novel done because someone was waiting on it? I could do that. Hell, I got Holly Lisle’s plan to do it in a week, and it seems completely do-able. However, I don’t have to. So why would I?
One of the big things HL stresses in that revision plan is figuring out what must be fixed, and what you’re just going to have to let be. It is, as in so many things, a balancing act. Like doing a crisis clean–get the trash out and wash the dishes, don’t go scrubbing the blasted grout. I’ve gotten through a lot of this edit going “don’t worry about the details, get it next time, GO GO GO!” And that’s fine. But now I’m at the point where to have any hope of my deadline at all, I’ve got to be even more ruthless. I’ve got to start Xing off big sections and writing “put this in Ben’s POV!” or “makes no sense! Write a new scene!” and that’s it.
That…doesn’t work for me. I’m not on a real deadline. Doing it that way will only make me tons more work later–I’ll have to go through all the flailing of getting into Edit-THIS-Book mode all over again, for at least one more major edit than I’d planned on. (it’s different every book, believe me–which is why I don’t normally just edit everything once I’m finally in edit-mode. If I could get in edit mode and not flail with each and every book, you BETCHA I’d edit everything at once!)
I hate that flailing. It’s hard on me. It makes my kid and my cats miserable. And my friends have to listen to so much whining. Why would I put us all through it more than absolutely necessary? Especially when I’d lose so much progress. Because don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can just pick up where you left off in something like this. You can’t. A novel is a huge and intricate tapestry and when it’s in your head the threads are everywhere. You’re the loom. An ever-changing loom. If you drop those threads you will never get them back the way they were. You may, with a lot of time and effort, get them another way that works. Maybe–I’m stressing that maybe–you’ll even find one that works better, but it will cost you a lot of time and effort, and who the hell wants to do that to themselves for the sake of a silly arbitrary deadline?
I don’t want to spend my life on this book. I have more to write.
So. I am altering the deal. Pray I do not alter it further.
Sorry, couldn’t resist. 
As I was saying *cough* I’m thinking two manuscripts, two months. Hiro’s book took me two whole months, so the element of crazy is still there. But it’s a possible mad goal, because I know these characters and this world a HELL of a lot better than I did/do Hiro’s.
So. Umm. Guess I better make it official.
*ahem*
I hereby announce and declare that I have decided¹ to adjust the goal of the Doomy Summer of Editing DOOM to a more reasonable but still crazy major revision of two very messy manuscripts.
¹tentatively, in the cold clear light of (my) morning, pending review from the crazies in my head, because good God do I hate missing deadlines, even silly, arbitrary, drive-me-mad-for-no-reason deadlines.
The problem with a crisis clean is, at some point in time, I’m still going to have to scrub the blasted grout. And it will make me crazy knowing that I will have to do this but still putting it off. So why not scrub the grout now, do the dishes, take out the garbage, and while I’m at it, give the floor a good sweep?
Of course, this is why my edit has taken four months, and you are a manuscript and a half ahead of me.
Two books over the summer is great progress. And you’ll probably do a better job of cleaning them by being able to give the manuscripts the time they deserve. I’m just saying. I approve of this plan. 😉
So why not scrub the grout now, do the dishes, take out the garbage, and while I’m at it, give the floor a good sweep?
’cause you’ve got an hour till [insert celebrity of choice] shows up, and if you get waylaid doing the grout, the trash and dishes and sweeping won’t get done. That’s why it’s a crisis clean and not a deep clean.
Also, the analogy breaks down with novels. When you do the dishes and the trash, it’s not very likely the sweeping will happen in such a way that you need to go back and do the dishes differently. With editing, it’s pretty much guaranteed–stuff you do later will make you need to fix stuff you did sooner. Until the polishing round, it’s all malleable.
/continuing long-term debate *shifty eyes*
I’m glad you approve! It hurts to give up my madness, but at some point I’ve got to be responsible, right? *hides watergun, silly putty, and slinky* Right?
Responsible, no. Knowing when you’re driving yourself bat**it crazy and being wise enough to stop doing it, yes.
Ooh, I like “wise.” That sounds a lot better than “responsible!”
I approve, too, O Wise Woman. *hugs*