Immersed in editing a historical fiction novel, I’ve had occasion lately to reflect on the different feelings that come with different kinds of writing.
The first draft experience, fueled by pre-dawn caffeine, was energizing, even a little addictive. There were piles of reference books ringing my desk chair, a pack of post-it notes in my pocket and a trail of individual post-its with often illegible scribbles scattered throughout the house and car. Characters appeared mid-story, changed names, disappeared without a trace. Dialogue streamed across pages until simply ending mid-thought or the forbidding [NEED MORE HERE]. Chapters emerged with reminders like [NEED TITLE] or [WHERE SHOULD THIS GO?]
This third draft experience, still fueled by pre-dawn caffeine, is quite different. In fact, perhaps the only commonality is the time of day and the beverage. This process is driven by a highly detailed Excel spreadsheet, taped to the wall next to my computer. All those post-it notes corralled into a single roadmap. It’s thoughtful, rescuing abandoned characters, or finding and completing each [BRACKETED MESSAGE]. It’s stopping to research what was the name of the train one would take in 1927 from El Paso to Detroit. Or whether April 2 was a Tuesday or a Saturday (it was a Saturday). It’s rarely as energizing but every time I put an X in the Status column, the feeling of bone-deep satisfaction is the same as….
Hmmmmm, why it’s the same as the difference between cooking the Thanksgiving feast and cleaning up after it.
The whirlwind of tastes and smells and steam and noise and clutter producing the magic of a perfect turkey and all the trimmings. There are ooh’s and aah’s of appreciation, a glass (or two) of wine to savor the moment. Energizing, right? Addictive… (maybe for some).
Followed by the deliberate consideration of what to keep for leftovers and what to throw out. Stacking dirty plates to wash before the greasy pots and pans. Considering how to load the dishwasher to get the most dishes done in each load. A glass of whisky for company since no one else is around. Not as energizing but soul-deep satisfaction when the last dish is wiped and put away and the towel draped over the drying rod.
A complete feast requires both the whirlwind and the calm after the storm.
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