First Draft Almost Complete

I'm closing in on the end of my first draft of my current novel, tentatively titled Another Blade of Grass. And it's been an interesting process. Before, I used to get stalled, especially on key scenes, by trying to get it "right". This time, the goal has just been to get it down. More important it was to me this time to get it written and then go back and fill in the gaps, straighten it out. This, of course, takes its own bit of patience. It has been necessary to accept that a just "finished" chapter is a piece of crap. Sure, the elements were there, what happens is supposed to happen, but maybe the tone or the voice is all wrong, maybe a key piece of dialogue was left out, or maybe the writing just stinks. But when the window is open to write, when I have the scheduled or stolen hour to write, I am going to do it.

Because so much remains undone, I am looking forward to revision. I am looking forward to adding that missing exchange, adding the color, the elements of setting that were left out. There are whole chapters, I believe, that need to be rewritten from top to bottom, with a blank piece of paper and the original writing as a guide.

The goal, in a way has been to make revision a more integral part of the writing process. Too often it has been a chore. When the work feels more or less "completed", changes beyond simple line edits can be difficult to do. Now, though, I know changes I want to make, know that much is left to do to make it complete. All of which makes me anticipate the next part of the process.

Barnes County Rejections

An agonizing thing it is to put your hard work out into the world with the great likelihood that it will be rejected. While I've grown used to this (though it is still difficult) with my short fiction, I somehow expected something different with a novel. It is not even a novel--it's just a query letter. Maybe I could believe that it is the letter itself that failed, not the work, not the plot and characters. Of course, agents can be just as callous as literary journals. The "impersonal note" above (it's a rejection; let's not mince words) was sent to me by Barer Literary.

The rejection above came from Ellen Levine at Trident Media Group, the representative of both Daniel Woodrell and Marilynne Robinson. I thought she'd be responsive to the rural setting and the grit in the novel, but I doubt that my letter made it past some intern or assistant.

I know that my lack of a signficant publishing history hurts me. It's one thing to take on a debut novelist, but one without even some success publishing short fiction is a greater risk. I know. I don't think it's important to list the few things I had published in the college's annual lit journal when I was an undergrand. And I didn't include the one, more recent, piece of journalism published in a trade journal. I think these things are more distracting than anything.

So, I need to just buck up and send it out again.