A Mime in Times Square

Writing can be a tedious, frustrating task. I think it's a little like laying bricks. You start to build up a few words, which build upon more words and more words. Days, weeks, or months later, you've got structure. You've got something to look at, something to design and plan. You keep going, not knowing exactly how the thing will turn out, but you have hope. So you dig in. You try staying focused. You take breaks because you start to go a little bonkers. And finally, voila! After a lot of hard labor, you've got a creation to be admired, and also scrutinized. But oh, you are not finished. This is where feedback comes in. You get some people to inspect your work--people who know all about brick laying, design, and layout. And they examine what you've done very carefully. Now imagine if EVERY time they do this, they tell you that something needs reworking. This is what happens in writing. You've done well, and bravo for your efforts, but you've got to fix s...

At the end of last week, I received revision requests from my new Skeleton Cat editor. I also heard back from my agent, who is requesting revisions on another manuscript that a different editor likes. Now, pretend you can actually hear me across the internet waves and listen closely to this sound…. SIIIGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Did you hear me exhaling for five minutes? Huff. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I think Skeleton Cat has been rewritten so many times it’s like an old friend who keeps reappearing over and over again on my doorstep, and although I love the guy I'm getting a little annoyed. Putnam sent me the completed cover jacket (with flaps) for The MIDDLE CHILD BLUES, and it’s really terrific. (I can say that since I'm referring to the illustrations.) The picture above is Lee, the middle kid, crankin' up the volume. Check out David Catrow’s VERY slick website (click here). This will be a fun book to read aloud!

Sigh. BIG sigh. I am now starting my 28th version of a manuscript I’ve been working on for eighteen months. Yes, that’s right. This is a picture book manuscript for young kids, and it will be my 28th complete re-write of it. But I’m motivated, because it looks like there’s some serious interest in it. I won’t give you the details about the story at this point because it’s both on the chopping block and under the microscope. (Hey, neat--two clichés in one sentence.) But imagine trying to reconstruct all the motivations of a certain character, and doing that within the confines of a precise rhyme scheme and meter. I’ve got to put every “at” “to” and “but” in the right place, and get all my stressed and unstressed syllables just right, saying what I need to say within a few beats per line. That’s the task at hand. My brain is a little bit fried. Tomorrow I’ll be visiting Westmore Elementary School in Orem, Utah. Should be fun. You never know how these things will turn out, but I’m looking...

I’ve decided that one of the hardest things about writing for publication is exposing oneself to rejection. Let’s face it, rejection is no fun. It hurts. It’s the realization that “something about me, or something I’ve created isn’t good enough.” And deep down, everybody wants to be good enough. Since my children are in a blended family due to divorce, I often find myself on weekends or holidays dropping them off for visitation. Today I was marveling that I still occasionally feel an emotional sting as my children run off to the arms of their other parent. As I drove away this afternoon, I wondered why. Since I’m happily married and secure in my kids’ love for me, why do these drop-offs continue to be uncomfortable? As I thought about it, I realized that it’s the reminder of the rejection--the reminder that at one time, I somehow wasn’t good enough. When we write, we spend countless hours encapsulating thousands of our thoughts into organized typed symbols. That’s a strange process, w...