Lewis Carroll’s Mad Hatter asked us this question in 1865 and no one is any closer to solving the mystery. (If you say you’ve got it, I simply don’t believe you).
I’m three chapters into editing the third draft of my book and I’m asking myself ‘why?’ quite a lot right now. Why did I put that scene there? Why did she say that? Why is that in his perspective? Why did I choose to do that? Why did I want to be a writer? And why, why, is a raven like a writing desk?
You see, I’ve given my book a bit of break recently. I took the plunge and handed over my manuscript (if I’m going to be bold enough to call it that) to a beta reader, aka my long-suffering friend Phoebe. I’ll hold my hands up admit I could have scarcely been more annoying. Where are you up to? What do you think so far? So will you read more tonight? I’m a bit surprised we’re still friends actually… But we are. She put up with me valiantly and provided some top notch feedback. (See picture below)
Except going back over it now feels different. It was written just long enough ago that now it’s a bit like someone else’s work. Past Sophie’s. I’m struggling to remember why I made these choices and why I put so many blooming words in a sentence. For the most part, past Sophie did quite well but future Sophie will be wondering why present Sophie is farting around instead of editing.
It’s the dreaded delete key! I understand Phoebe’s comments, I do, and I’m adding scenes and explaining more but I’m so reluctant to press delete. It feels like a piece of my soul has gone into that work and it’s so difficult to cut it out, even if it is for the greater good. Do you ever feel like that?
On the whole, feedback has been both positive and helpful. Having a writing buddy is really useful because they can be honest with you. And my writing buddy is a tough critic. I’m gradually telling my friends and family that I’ve written a book and want to be a writer. It feels a funny thing to admit. I’m half proud (ok a lot proud) and a bit embarrassed. On the whole everyone has been very supportive and I’ve had a lot of reading offers which I’m taking everyone up on! I need as much feedback as I can get – a book is a collaborative venture.
The support here online has been overwhelmingly lovely. I’d say something more emotive but I’m too British, emotion is reserved for fiction.
So why have I done it? Why have I decided to write? Well because I can’t not. And no other why’s seem to matter … except why is a raven like a writing desk, Lewis? One would almost think it was nonsense …