25 Steps to Revisions for Writers with Anxiety Disorders

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  1. Get critique letter or email. DO NOT OPEN. DO NOT READ.
  2. Wait until you are in your safe place.
  3. Apply essential oils.
  4. Pray, if you pray.
  5. Decide to take a nap instead, just in case this is the last time you are able to find peace.
  6. Oversleep.
  7. Read editorial letter.
  8. Go back to sleep. DO NOT THINK ABOUT THE LETTER. DO NOT EMAIL EDITOR IMMEDIATELY.
  9. The next day, email editor to say thank you and acknowledge receipt of editorial letter. Ask for a few days to process things.
  10. Do not actually process things. Probably best to continue avoidance tactics at this point.
  11. When avoidance time runs out, go back to safe place.
  12. Apply essential oils.
  13. Pray, if you pray.
  14. Re-read editorial letter.
  15. Boil letter down into themes.
  16. Journal about each theme. Make a list of questions.
  17. Finally reply to editor.
  18. Repeat steps 1-8 with editor’s reply.
  19. Ask for time to process again.
  20. Do not actually process.
  21. Stay busy. Let the revision requests exist in the back of your mind while you let the sting and fear subside.
  22. Optional: take Ativan or similar prescription drug. Not optional: take nap.
  23. Depending on deadline, keep revision requests at the back of your mind until they begin to tiptoe toward the front.
  24. When they have stealthily made their way to the front of your brain AND you feel excited, return to safe place to make a plan.
  25. Revise.

Striking Out

It just occurred to me as I titled this post that “striking out” can be positive or negative.

I’m striking out on a new adventure! 🙂

I’m striking out on this revision. 😦

I am hopeful that I mean the former.

I had a weird night, mostly in that I didn’t sleep, not for one minute. I stayed up looking at clickbait, and then it was one am, then I stayed up reading, and then it was four am, and then I watched YouTube, and then it was six am, and then the sun was up and I wasn’t tired whatsoever, so I got up, went downstairs, and now I’m on my computer, and it’s seven-thirty am, and I just yawned. This is my life.

Anyway, I’m diving into a new revision today. I plotted and prayed (and need to do more of both, I’m sure), but long-time blog readers will know that too much plotting destroys my soul and the soul of my stories, so I’m walking into the battlefield mostly unarmed.

Writing takes so much courage. It costs me just to open up my document.

And even though I prefer going in with just a minimal plan, it’s still really, really scary. (Maybe even scarier? I hate to pit plotters and pantsers against each other. Writing– period– is just really hard and vulnerable and frightening– period.)

Think of me today.

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Being a Creator is Uncomfortable

Writing a novel is a long, difficult journey full of emotions. Some days I’m thrilled with my work; some days it disgusts me. Sometimes I feel a sort of writer’s high; often I am in a slump.

But amidst all the join and pain of writing, I experience this level of … discomfort. Discomfort is probably the best word for it.

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I’ve been thinking a little bit about it, and I have a few random thoughts. Do you care if I use bullet points? Thanks.

  • My discomfort stems from having something incomplete. I understand that the nature of creation is that something is being created and that likely doesn’t happen in a moment. But I hate having messy drafts. I want to know that if I got hit by a bus today, something could still be done with my manuscript. (Gruesome much, Sommers?)
  • I think this discomfort is a huge reason for how driven I am in writing. I go into beast mode as I write and revise. And it’s all because I want to get the manuscript back to a modicum of order.
  • Does this say something about my innate desire for order? Maybe. (Though you would not think that if you looked at my bedroom. #tornado)
  • I’m thinking about God creating– some think he made the world in a literal six days (and rested on the seventh), some think those days are just metaphors, some think there is no God. But I’m intrigued at the idea of him hammering through all this creative work and then finally getting a chance to rest. Sometimes I feel that way too. I have to get this work done before I can properly rest and recover.
  • I understand that I need to learn to live with this discomfort. It’s been the major lesson of my adult life: learning to embrace uncertainty, learning to stay knee-deep in discomfort until I acclimate. I am trying to stretch these lessons to my creative life. I tell myself I only need to revise 1000 words a day … but then I barrel through and do 10k because I can and because it’s uncomfortable and because I want to get things back to good. But how much more will I learn if I stay in the discomfort? I don’t know.

Just some thoughts for you. Would love to hear if these ideas prompted any reaction in you.

Thanks for being lovely.