A lesson in Adaptation

Finally, I'm writing the book I have wanted to write for sometime now. Have dusted it off the shelf where it has been percolating for several years now. What's frustrating is it's apparrent that I should have written it several years ago. Now instead of writing offensively I find myself doing defensive writing. I'm constantly changing details, characters personalities, abilities, because I realize that I am not the only one with my ideas. For example, my title has already been changed and it seems that I may be in search of a new one, since a new book will to hit the shelves in 2011 by the same name. I feel like a twin looking for her own identity. Hopefully, I will be able to find mine. There's something I've learned in this process. I know how to adapt.

Javelina Evolution

We talk about craft and strategy so much, but we can’t write without feelings.

I have just gone through a year of Editorial Aversion. Except for my critique group, I have not shown anything to anybody. And in the meantime, something happened in publishing. The mounds of rejections slips are now replaced at many publishers by: silence. The usual phrasing is “NEW POLICY: “If you don’t hear from us in 4 weeks (6 months, a year), you can assume your manuscript does not meet our present needs.” So I was even less motivated to put myself out for ignoring than I was for rejecting!

But all that changed in 2010. Determination was renewed and I just sent a story to an editor, a proposal to an agent, and signed up for a serious online analysis with a well known NY editor. (It was very cool to see his name in my inbox!) And signed up for two conferences to be critiqued. This is my year!

The project most under the microscope for me at the moment is my Southwestern tale about a javelina. The editor’s first round response was: “the setting is great. Your assignment is to find a different story.” Yikes! But it was constructive feedback and he is looking at it again. I did “find the new story” in the time allotted. I salvaged the setting and the name of the javalina…

But he is not the fluffy little javelina I imagined in the beginning. (OK –they are not fluffy or cuddly and no one wants a stuffed one.) I know ultimately publishing is a joint venture between author, editor and illustrator and if everyone is willing to compromise, the end project is the best it can be. The new story is probably better, but I am feeling some distance from it now. After all, the little fella might have to morph again to “meet someone’s present needs.” Maybe he’ll have to sprout wings. Turn purple. Become a bunny.

Feelings? Self-protective. Determined. A little loss and lots of hope.

Hey - my story of the lemming is perfect as it is!