“It’s ‘all of a sudden,’ not ‘all of the sudden,’ right?” She asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never heard ‘all of a sudden’ before.”

“Really? allofasudden. allofasudden. allofthesudden. But I always say ‘all of a sudden.’”

“Maybe you just say it so fast, I think you’re saying ‘all of the sudden.’”

“Maybe.”

“But make a note on the page so I can look it up tomorrow.”

And look it up I did.

As it turns out, I am wrong.

Very, very wrong.

I suppose I should be embarrassed, but if I was, you’d never know it because I wouldn’t be broadcasting to the world that I am guilty of one of those grammatical pet peeves that people get downright twisted about.

What’s more, I’m one of those people. To this day, I can’t stand it when people use “normalcy” instead of “normality,” even both are perfectly acceptable. But “normality” came first, and “normalcy” was invented by a bunch of academics before Warren G. Harding guaranteed every politician on earth would use it at least once during his or her campaign.

Returning to the original discussion, my irrational preference for “normality” probably explains how I managed to get through 16 years of formal education and not realize that I was butchering a very, very common phrase.

I mean, how many times have I read this in books and articles and subconsciously substituted the “a” for “the?”

Thank God I’ve learned some humility since getting married².

You were right babe.

1. Seriously, she catches types of my stuff I manage to read over a dozen times
2. mostly because Sarah is smarter than me. I’m not kidding

So the door is open. Wide open…

And I must admit that I feel naked. Yes, Very nude (This is safe, I promise. We don’t peddle filth here).

I recognize that I’ve laid my soul on the line, even though the people I have entrusted my creation to are very close friends. But that might actually make it worse. One is a good friend who has heard me talk at length about my journey to here and has stood beside me in the struggles of the last several months. The other is my wife, whose praise I crave like the very air I breathe. So yeah, feeling a little exposed here…

And though I have been writing in some form or another for many years, it’s been far too long since I have reached this stage in the process. What’s more, it’s the first time since I decided last October to make a serious go at this thing that I’ve flung the door wide open, as Mr. King would say. So this might as well be the first time I’m doing this.

So yeah, I’ll admit I’m nervous. And scared.

And somehow excited like you wouldn’t believe.

It’s an odd mix, I know. But I’ll bet you know what I mean.

In fact, I want to know about your “door wide open” experiences. Tell me about one that’s vivid for you. If you’re a fellow writer, tell me about the first time you opened yourself up for feedback. What was it like? If you’re a seasoned vet, what is it like now?

Even if you’re not a writer, I want to hear from you, either here or on your own blog. Tell me about a time you felt like the door was wide open on your life, or your craft.

I’ll be sure to keep you all posted on how it goes for me. In the meantime, I look forward to hearing your tales.

- B

While writing this, I was listening to “Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect” by The Decemberists

1. I’m kidding guys. I don’t really expect that. Unless it’s true, which it probably is
2. contrast this to “writing with the door closed” which is his term for the creation of the first and second drafts where, as a rule, no one is allowed to see your WIP. And he means no one.

“Inspiration comes mythic-magical, but an annoying thing happens in the transmission from inspiration to worldly draft: Things come out a little fuzzy. Introductions are clunky, transitions are awkward, dialogue sounds forced, and sensory details are wholly lacking. A writer’s privilege is that she can fix it later. And then fix it again. There’s magic in the first raw draft of a story, but the real alchemy happens in rewriting.” – Ariel Gore

Last night, I completed the first read-through of my manuscript. I’ve been mired in this phase of the editing process for almost two months, compared to the one month I spent creating the first draft. But it’s been an experience: I have moved from over-editing (re-writes in longhand on the page, sometimes good, often too much) to under-editing (few notes in a section beyond salvaging) to right-editing (essential edits, short notes and memory triggers for the rewrite).

What’s more, I’ve learned a lot over the last two months. Some examples:

• Editing a first draft is a good exercise in humility. It really never does come out sounding like Homer, Shakespeare, Lewis, Eliot, Chesterton, etc.

• Editing a first draft is emotionally like running a marathon. At first, you feel inspired and driven by your courage. After a short time, you slow slightly and start to doubt yourself. This feeling passes quickly, you hit a second wind and start to speed through with new life. That feeling also passes quickly and is replaced with more extreme doubt and what-was-I-thinking-type emotions. Towards the end, you feel as though you can’t go on. Then you realize that only two miles remain and push through to the end solely on grit. When you cross the finish line, you collapse in a lifeless heap. Or something like that…

• Coffee stains provide manuscripts with a grizzled and distinguished look that almost enhances their quality. I am considering pouring a cup of French Roast on submission copies.

• Doing an entire draft before editing worked well for me. I know it doesn’t work for everyone; countless writers have had success drafting one page, section or chapter at a time. If I tried that, I’d still be on chapter two, pondering comma placement, debating whether to use semicolons or dashes and creating funny anagrams from the names of my characters. Silencing that editor for an entire month while I wrote 200 pages was freeing. I don’t think I’d ever do it any other way.

• I use the following words and phrases too much: “a bit,” “almost imperceptible,”  “a great deal,” and “seemed.” Never did find a sentence with all of them together.  That would have been sweet: “He seemed to have an almost imperceptible way of saying “a great deal,” just a bit too much.”

• Prose of poor quality can and often does exist both before and after prose of high quality.

• Passive voice I do not much use and adverbs I do not muchly rely on. This is a very, very good thing.

Now comes the part I’ve been looking forward to: Rewrites. I’ve known since I finished that I have a lot more to add (manuscript is only 55k and has some holes), and have already written new opening chapters. I’ll be spending each morning for the next month adding new chapters and revising what I have.

But not just yet. I think it would be wise to take a break of at least a few days before diving back in. In the meantime, there’s a short story in my head that needs to be written. It’s been clamoring to get out:

“Reggie Willburn was stuck.”

Off we go!

- B