I'm writing this at 12:18 a.m., having just completed my second rewrite, ready to be sent off to my editor bright and early tomorrow. Despite the dire nature of the last posting, as it turns out all things have turned out well, my fears have been unjustified, and, well, life is good.
There's a scene in one of our favorite movies, What About Bob?, in which psychiatric patient Bob, having been lashed to the mast of a sailboat, starts shouting to his doctor on shore, "I'm sailing! Dr. Marvin, do you see? I'm sailing!!" For some reason, this can seem an apt analogy to what I've been experiencing in recent days as I've written a rough draft, e-mailed it to my able young editor, got back comments about serious revisions and additions that were needed, then overcame my initial revulsion and got the info I needed and did the rewrite. "I'm writing!" I might shout. "Do you see? I'm writing!"
This afternoon and evening as I wrote from my notes and pared it down (to exactly 680 words, I'll have you know), I suddenly realized that I was having fun. Fear was past and I was reminded of why, as an 11-year-old boy I filled in a page a day in a diary, and why, a little later, I used to write my poor brother John "monster" letters when he went off to boarding school in Florida, and why, in Grade 7, English was my favorite subject and I so loved even "diagramming sentences." (Never heard of it, young people? Ah, you benighted souls. Check it out here.)
There's a scene in one of our favorite movies, What About Bob?, in which psychiatric patient Bob, having been lashed to the mast of a sailboat, starts shouting to his doctor on shore, "I'm sailing! Dr. Marvin, do you see? I'm sailing!!" For some reason, this can seem an apt analogy to what I've been experiencing in recent days as I've written a rough draft, e-mailed it to my able young editor, got back comments about serious revisions and additions that were needed, then overcame my initial revulsion and got the info I needed and did the rewrite. "I'm writing!" I might shout. "Do you see? I'm writing!"
This afternoon and evening as I wrote from my notes and pared it down (to exactly 680 words, I'll have you know), I suddenly realized that I was having fun. Fear was past and I was reminded of why, as an 11-year-old boy I filled in a page a day in a diary, and why, a little later, I used to write my poor brother John "monster" letters when he went off to boarding school in Florida, and why, in Grade 7, English was my favorite subject and I so loved even "diagramming sentences." (Never heard of it, young people? Ah, you benighted souls. Check it out here.)
posted by Ted | 11:18 PM
2 Comments:
How young is young??? I remember diagramming sentences in 7th grade--and hating it. :) Guess I'm older than I thought, unless it's just an American thing.
I think I'm also one of the last "US Americans" to learn to read without learning 'phonics' first. We switched to public school when I was in 2nd grade, and had no idea what they were talking about, though I could read just fine. It was kinda annoying that they would force us to break down each word, such as "el-a-fant" instead of just saying, "elephant." Whatever.
Glad you were able to finish the article and have fun while doing so. I'm sure you'll run into frustrations at every job, so good getting past those.
I thought it wasn't due 'til May though??? I think I read that in one of your posts or an email. Guess not--that seemed like an awfully long time, so March makes much more sense!
Yep, three more days. I've now been working with the editor again getting directions for some more relatively minor) changes. I'll get there...
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