It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way." - Charles Dickens

Who knew the French Revolution and manuscript revision had so much in common?

I have almost finished the bulk of the changes on the manuscript, and have a satisfying number of pages with big blue ticks on them (as in, the tick symbol, not big blue blood-sucking insects). Tomorrow's job is to write some missing scenes that I need ... and then I'll print out another typescript and give it to my beta reader. I have learned that revision is the most torturous and tedious part of writing a book. It is also, in a way, the most exciting, as you chip away everything that isn't your story to reveal what will be, hopefully, a tight, polished version. Hopefully.

It has taken over my life and turned my brain to chewed bubblegum, but it is also immensely satisfying. I'm going to crack on with the rest of the changes now, and then go to my mother's to watch American Idol. A dose of Adam Lambert will be a suitable reward for a long day of work, I think.

P.S. Ooh, and if you live in Christchurch, try to see Miss Saigon before it closes! It was absolutely glorious and I'm still on a high. Amazing evening. The only low point was the dreadful man sitting behind us who complained that our friend was "a big lad" and he couldn't see past him (he's really not, he's average height), and made us switch seats. We did it, to avoid drama, only to be stuck behind his enormous bald head for the rest of the night. You see, he was "a big lad" too.

P.P.S. My friend Hannah has started a blog: she's new to the blogosphere, so if you have a chance, stop by and say hello. She's such a glamorous lady, and I'm so looking forward to seeing all her outfits online.

Long post ahead!

Oh jeez. Breakthroughs galore (I feel like it should be 'breaksthrough', like 'culs de sac' or 'passers-by', but then I would have to start saying 'hamsburger' and 'lawnsmower').

So. I have been reading through Old Book (as in, the one for the Masters) and proofing it, ready to be submitted. As you know, I started submitting it to agents back in September, only a couple of months after it was finished. I felt confident in the book, and I wanted to get it out there as soon as possible. I had edited it exhaustively, but I hadn't really spent enough time 'out' of it to get any sort of distance. Reading through it today, however, I experienced an unexpected revelation.

I haven't felt really, rock-bottom down about any of the rejections from agents. I have been sad, sure, but I have never felt like giving up, and I have never felt like I'm pursuing something that's out of my grasp. I don't think I am. The rejections, despite their obvious downside, have been 'good' ones (you know what I mean). If I was going to summarise the pros and cons from each letter, I would say that all of them said that the book is well-written and that they enjoyed it, and all of them said it would be hard to sell because it reads more like a memoir than a novel.

There are different types of criticism. There's the amorphous, unhelpful kind: "I just didn't like it." There's the personal, even less helpful kind: "I can't believe you wrote this piece of crap. What were you thinking?" And then there's the useful, constructive kind, the kind that makes you go "Aha! So that's it! I can fix that." You hear it with recognition and gratitude (and okay, maybe a little petulance, because you are human, but only for a second), because some part of you knows it is true. That kind of criticism opens doors rather than slamming them in your face. And that's what the statement "it reads more like a memoir than a novel" did for me. Because it absolutely does. Reading over it now, now that I've had a few months to let it settle and gain some sort of objectivity, I can see that far more clearly.

I'm not sorry I shopped it out to agents so soon after editing it, though, because in a weird way the rejections I received were a sort of validation. They were saying, "You're in the right business, you're a good writer, but this needs some work before I'll take it on." And I've learned an awful lot about the agent-hunting process, and feel a lot more confident approaching them. But what I do know is that I can see a clear path to creating a more novel-like version of the novel. A way to make it better. A way which will involve a LOT of work which I will have to do while I'm working on Current Novel. Totally worth it.

This is not to say I'm giving up on finding an agent for the book - after all, it's still sitting with several agents who are yet to respond. I just feel like I can rework it while I'm writing New Book, and make it better - solve some of the problems. We'll see.

On an entirely different subject, I have a great story to tell you! You may remember the vintage dress that LOML bought for me as an anniversary present, while we were in Nelson. Well, I went to Tete a Tete Vintage yesterday (and bought something lovely to show you when the weather clears up, but that's another story), and spotted a coat hanging on one of the racks. It was made of identical fabric to this dress, and had the same very distinctive button detail, one on each lapel. The buttonholes are edged in a darker fabric - very unique. When I looked at the label, I saw it was made by Juliet of Christchurch, same as my dress. It was surreal. I turned to Vanessa (one of the two owners) and said, "I think I have the dress that matches this." When I told her I had bought it in Nelson, she got all excited as well and told me that a friend of hers had bought the coat in Nelson. Evidently someone had separated the two pieces up there and sold them separately. But what are the odds that I would find the dress up there, and then find the coat in my favourite vintage store here in Christchurch, miles away? Synchronicity, I tell you!

I put the coat on lay-by, of course. I mean, how could I not buy it? Fate will not be denied.