I'm realizing that things with my novel just aren't going to work out. It's fundamentally flawed, or at least flawed beyond my abilities to fix it. I love it but I'm exhausted from the efforts of trying to make it work, of giving it yet another chance.
And it really is hitting me like a break-up. I've worked on this for three and a half years. It isn't my first novel but it's my first serious novel, the first I've worked on as an adult. I've worked SO hard, so much rewriting and restructuring. I'm on draft 8.5 or something (I stopped counting, plus my numbering stopped being logical). When I finished this version and read it straight through I felt so happy--I felt after all that work I'd finally done it. I actually cried feeling proud of it. As that's worn off, and as I've got feedback, I'm realizing the reality. It might have been the best I can do but it still isn't good. It isn't a lack of trying, or even of talent generally, it's this novel. It's not going to work. I really thought it would be The One [ie, my debut] and it's just not going to be. And I'm crying my eyes out to realize it.
I know not now doesn't mean not never--maybe one day I can come back to it and things will be different. And I know it isn't an end-all. I've been writing for fifteen years and I know I'm not terrible, and this whole experience does prove I CAN write a serious adult novel, and more importantly, put in all the effort towards rewriting and editing I didn't for my earlier, younger novels. I have another project to work on, even, that I feel keen about. But right now I'm still stuck emotionally thinking "I don't WANT another project, I want THIS ONE."
I'm sure, like actual heartbreak, these intense feelings will pass, but right now I feel maybe I need some reassurance that they're going to. Thanks for listening.
And it really is hitting me like a break-up. I've worked on this for three and a half years. It isn't my first novel but it's my first serious novel, the first I've worked on as an adult. I've worked SO hard, so much rewriting and restructuring. I'm on draft 8.5 or something (I stopped counting, plus my numbering stopped being logical). When I finished this version and read it straight through I felt so happy--I felt after all that work I'd finally done it. I actually cried feeling proud of it. As that's worn off, and as I've got feedback, I'm realizing the reality. It might have been the best I can do but it still isn't good. It isn't a lack of trying, or even of talent generally, it's this novel. It's not going to work. I really thought it would be The One [ie, my debut] and it's just not going to be. And I'm crying my eyes out to realize it.
I know not now doesn't mean not never--maybe one day I can come back to it and things will be different. And I know it isn't an end-all. I've been writing for fifteen years and I know I'm not terrible, and this whole experience does prove I CAN write a serious adult novel, and more importantly, put in all the effort towards rewriting and editing I didn't for my earlier, younger novels. I have another project to work on, even, that I feel keen about. But right now I'm still stuck emotionally thinking "I don't WANT another project, I want THIS ONE."
I'm sure, like actual heartbreak, these intense feelings will pass, but right now I feel maybe I need some reassurance that they're going to. Thanks for listening.
