Sometimes You Write a Book. Again.

Sometimes you write a book...and then you revise a book...and rewrite a book...and rewrite it again. And hope, that in the end, it turns out to be something fantastic.

I said that in this post back in July, and guys, I had NO IDEA what I was getting into.

It's funny. You think you have it all figured out. You know what your story is and where it needs to go and how to tell it. You have a plan for the days, weeks, months it will take to get an agent and sell and have all the things you've been too scared to dream about at your fingertips.

But what you don't account for?

Sometimes it takes longer. Sometimes you have to stop, to re-evaluate your novel, to get to know your characters, to be vulnerable and say that maybe--just maybe--you don't know what needs to happen next. You need to ask for help and listen to it. You need to trust.

Sometimes, too, you don't account that this book will take you an incredible amount of time. And...well....seven rewrites.

That's where I've been.

It's crazy. Seven rewrites?! Like, change the structure or the motivation or the plot thread that ties the whole book together rewrites. Major things. You never think that could happen, but then it does. And in the midst of it, I found myself feeling like I would never get it where it needed to be. I wondered WHY I kept trying to tell this story. Why I couldn't figure it out. Why I cared so much.

But that's the thing. We have to care. We have to want to tell the story. Otherwise, why are we trying this? Anyone can slap a mediocre, cliche-filled, commercial story on pages and call it a book. But to tell the story we want to tell, we have to care about it.

Some days, I felt like I cared too much. Other days, not enough.

I wanted to quit. To stamp it done anyway because I couldn't anymore.

But I never did.

I kept telling the story. I kept fixing it. I kept loving it and caring and analyzing and admitting when I was stuck or scared or frustrated. I'd take breaks, like a few months ago in November/December where all I did was watch TV. But I did it. I wrote.

And seven drafts later, I can look back on that post I wrote in July and know I was right.

Sometimes you write a book...and then you revise a book...and rewrite a book...and rewrite it again. And hope, that in the end, it turns out to be something fantastic.

 Because lovelies, it is. I've never been this proud of anything I've written. I love this story and the journey we've been on together. Perseverance? It's a good thing.