Oh, if I had a dime for every time I thought this…
(Spoiler Alert: I’d have a lot of dimes.)
It can be tempting to shove uncooperative stories in a drawer and never look at them again. After all, we’re the authors, right? We’re supposed to be driving the bus while the story comes along for the ride.
Another spoiler alert (and I learned this one the very hard way): Stories want a say in where they go. And they really resent it when we don’t listen to them.
Ever fought with your partner about who’s responsibility it is to empty the dishwasher? Or battled with your best friend about how you used all the Power Rangers stickers without them? (Hey, preschool fights are no laughing matter.)
Either way, I bet a key component to fixing things was taking some time away to breathe, maybe vent your frustrations to someone else. Then, when everyone calmed down, you got back together, talked it out, and moved forward.
So, here’s the plan. You go vent to your writing group or critique partners or neighbor about how irritating your story’s being.
While you do that, I’ll talk to your story and find out why it’s being so obstinate.
Then, once everyone’s calmed down, we’ll get together so you and the story can hug, make up, and get back to work with a clear roadmap of where to go next.
And I promise it won’t take anywhere near the five years it did for my bestie and I to get over the Power Rangers incident. 😉
Writing a book takes work, but it shouldn’t feel like the type of work that sucks out your soul. Stories are magic. Magic is power. Therefore, stories should make you, the author, feel empowered–not like you want to rip your hair out one strand at a time because “it’s just not working!”
Learning that stories are people too is the reason I still have hair to pull out. It took me forever, though, to really understand the importance of letting stories breathe. Even after 2.5 years in my MFA program listening to every professor tell me “after you finish the rough draft, let the story sit before you revise,” I didn’t want to believe it. I was so sure leaving the story alone was the death sentence to creativity. That I’d come back to it after two weeks and think “I don’t care about this anymore. Why did I even write this?”
Now, I know time away from my stories is *the* reason I haven’t given up writing. I haven’t sold millions of copies, and I’m not a household name (mostly because I haven’t made time to establish a true marketing plan), but I’m a writer. With help from my stories, I tell the tales I want to tell.
And with help from your story, you can too.
No two story journeys look the same. Sometimes, you don’t need true time away until the manuscript’s almost done. Other times, you are ready to impose mandatory separate corners 20k into the rough draft.
Whenever it happens, whatever shape the story’s in when you both decide you can’t move forward without spilling your guts to a sympathetic ear, I’m here. I’ll listen to your story when you can’t so the two of you can get back to what matters–making manuscript magic.
So before you say “screw it” and throw that story in a drawer, contact me. I’ll even put the form right below this paragraph so you have no excuses. Your story is important. Don’t give up on it.