The Revision House of Cards

If you've ever drafted a novel, you know that when you deliver it to your CPs' inboxes, it's like a card house - painstakingly planned, fretted over, each piece fitting into place perfectly. Stable, but intricate.



But what my CPs can see, that I can't possibly see, is that my novel isn't a house of cards. It's more like this:

'

This old farmhouse has a pretty solid foundation, and has the potential to be awesome if we tweaked a little here, cleared all the brush around it, replace the kitchen, add some additions, and build a sweet driveway next to it.

But before I can do all that to it, my CPs have to make some suggestions for change that pretty much amount to this:



Not gonna work for the house of cards. 




But deep down I still see that novel as a house of cards. She's my baby, remember? I agonized over putting every piece of her into place. I saw her being built, but my CPs only saw her finished, with parts of her starting to look not-so-good.

So I try to make the changes my CPs suggest without the wrecking ball.

You can guess what happens. I usually end up with something like this:



I changed one little thing, moved around one little piece. I can pretend the whole thing's going to stand on its own, but inevitably the next round of CPs notice it for what it is: a wibbly-wobbly (but not timey-wimey, that's Jamie's book) proto-mess that won't last for long  or maybe just doesn't make any sense as-is.

We all know it. They know it, and sometimes they try to pretend it's okay, but most of the time, they keep telling me my house is about ready to fall. Yeah, it hurts to hear it, because just look at that card house up there! It's MOSTLY fine. Who's going to notice?

Well, they tell me, everyone will. When it falls. Or worst, only I will when it doesn't sell.

Well, crud.



So, that's where I am now.

It's hard, but I'm resolving to (try to)  follow my CPs advice with the wrecking ball instead of just by moving cards around.  I asked these people to read because I trust and respect every one of their opinions. FULLY.

Even when it's scary. Especially when it's scary.

And so, as my fingers hover over the "delete" button or the keyboard to write even more new stuff,  I remember that those ladies saw a strong foundation, and some beautiful elements, and knew that even with a wrecking ball, the whole thing would turn out okay.

No. It would turn out way, way better.


(That's what Elias's house looks like, by the way. Movie room's down the hall on the left.)

Will 2012 Be Your Year?

I'm just gonna say it right now: 2012 is going to be My Year.

How do I know? Because I'm going to make it My Year. Just like I did with 2011.

Here's how I made 2011 My Year:

• I wrote. Every. Single. Day.
• I blogged. A lot.
• I read. A lot.
• I finished THE TRAVELERS.
• I met handfuls, bunches, and scads of amazing, kind, and brilliant writers.
• I got very, very lucky, and some of those writers agreed to critique TT. I listened to their suggestions for how to make it better. Then I made it better.
• I attended WriteonCon in August.
• I learned how to write a query letter. And a synopsis. And a two sentence pitch. And a one sentence pitch. And a Twitter pitch. And a logline. And I learned how to make a first page sparkle.
• I sent almost a hundred queries and entered lots of blog contests for TT. I even got some requests!
• I learned to deal with rejection. A LOT of rejection. (I even cried the ugly cry!) Then I learned to accept that no matter what, it's not easy.
• I started writing ONE as soon as the first query went out on TT.
• I got super, extra, turbo lucky, and some of those writers became dear friends to me (and Aunties to my kids!)
• I wrote ONE much better than I wrote TT, in more ways than I can count.
• I decided to stop querying TT. (That hurt. A lot.)
• I critiqued six-ish projects from other writers while I was doing all of the above.
• I assembled an amazing team of 6 (six!) critique partners in two rounds for ONE (hi ladies, I love you all so much.)
• I started revising ONE according to their suggestions. 

"But, Leigh Ann," you might say. "You didn't sign with an agent, or sell a book, or or or or or."

Nope. I sure didn't. Would I have liked to? Absolutely. I mean, yeah. That would have put me over the moon.

But I took every single step I had to in order to get there.
I learned, I pushed myself, I worked my butt off, I failed (kind of spectacularly,) I learned some more, I worked my butt off some more.

So, how am I going to make sure that 2012 is My Year?

I'm going to do exactly the same thing.

More specifically, here's what's on tap in my writing world for 2012:

• Revise and polish ONE.
• Write, rewrite, and rewrite again all the queries, pitches, and other agent-seeking accouterments for ONE.
• Query and contest the heck out of ONE.
• Attend WriteOnCon.
• Outline manuscript #3.
• Write manuscript #3.
• Rewrite, revise, and polish manuscript #3
• Attend SCBWI NYC (okay, I know that's technically 2013, throw me a bone. I'm excited.)
• Read a lot.
• Blog a lot.
• Critique a lot.
• Write. Every. Single. Day. (except maybe the day that I'm supposed to help this new little human get out of my body. But I'm sure I get a pass for that, right? And honestly probably I'll write that day too. Labor can get boring.

Will I get requests for ONE?
Probably, though I wouldn't place bets on it.


Am I going to sign with an agent? 
Maybe not.

Will I sell a book?
Probably not.

Will I attain widespread fame and fortune?
In a parallel universe, maybe.


But that's okay. Because I know I'm trying my absolute hardest to get there.


So, what about you? Will 2012 be YOUR year?

The only one who can decide whether 2012 will be your year is you.  And, as Sugar says, no one is going to give you a thing. You have to go out and get it for yourself.

So, if you want 2012 to be your year, my dear writing loves, then set your mind to buckling down and getting to work. Make it happen no matter what. Because you're the only one who really can.


Now, please tell me, because I really want to know. How are you going to make sure 2012 is Your Year?

A Questionnaire for Potential Crit Partners

Are you worried about whether the critique partner you've just met is the right match for your needs? Relax. I've devised a simple eight-question survey to determine if you are a good match.

(You're looking for as many matching answers as possible. There is no right or wrong here.*)

Have fun!



1. What time do you go to bed at night/wake up in the morning?

• Morning Person
• Night Owl
• I never sleep. 

2. How comfortable are you talking about your personal life?

• Not at all. This relationship is about writing and writing only.
• Once we get to know each other, I might leak some personal details.
• I will tell you about my religious beliefs, deepest darkest fears, and sex life right now.

3. How do you feel about sending and receiving care packages?

• I would probably call the bomb squad if I got one from you.
• Only if it relates to our interactions as critique partners - for example, a book we discussed.
• I just sent you one that weighed twenty pounds. It includes some homemade cookies and a set of jim-jams I thought you'd like.

4. Are you comfortable gushing about how wonderful my book/writing skills/general person when I'm in the lowest of the drafting/revising/querying trenches?

• I really don't want to inflate your ego. I'll be one hundred percent honest with you, even when self-doubt is at its worst.
• If I feel really sorry for you, I'll give you as much hand-holding as I can muster.
• You are the best author I know. I can't believe you don't have an agent yet. Wait. What was the question?

5. If I send you a panicked email about a minuscule detail in my query letter, how will you respond?

• I'll brush it off as quickly as possible. Talent speaks for itself, and that query letter isn't going to make a difference in whether you get an agent.
• I'll respond about the distinction between the "or" and the "and" in that sentence, once, but after that I'll ignore you. Chill the eff out.
• I will drop everything to analyze every word with you until you calm down/your query letter sparkles like it's meant to. This is important!

6. Can I come stay at your house if I feel like taking a vacation?

• No. Never ask me that again.
• Maybe. If I decide you're not too weird.
• Absolutely. And I will cook for you, leave chocolates on your pillow, and scent your bedsheets with lavender. How soon can you get here?

7. If I'm having a really bad day, will you email me a kissing scene and/or near miss scene and/or sex scene from your WiP to cheer me up?

• Why would a kissing/near-miss/sex scene cheer you up? Are you some kind of pervert?
• I don't really feel comfortable sharing details of what I'm working on, but for you I might.
• I'll send you three kissing scenes right now, just in case.

8. Can I have your phone number to save in my speed dial under "In Case of Catastrophic Agent Rejection?"

• No. Are you kidding? That is freaky.
• If you promise to call only if you really, really need to.
• I thought you'd never ask. Here's my work number too. 

*I lied. The last answer is always the right one.