Raising a Book

I often hear it said that writing a novel is like giving birth. Having done both now, I can see the similarity, but I think the experience is closer to raising a child than to birthing one. Both involve work and pain, but there is a difference in determination. If you decide in the middle of labor that the struggle is too great and you would really rather not do the baby thing, it makes no difference. You're in for the full ride, and there's no going back. By contrast, raising a child requires a more active participation. We choose to be a good parent. We choose not to abandon the effort when times get rough. We work at molding a child who will be capable of going out into the world without us, and we hope that our child will be both well-treated by that world and also a benefit to it. This is, I think, a more appropriate analogy for our literary children.

Together, my husband and I have produced a novel, written primarily for the pure goal of telling the story, but with intentions of sending it off into the world someday. It has been a long process, complicated further by the collaboration. We've both spent our lives writing, he mostly poetry and I mostly short stories, but our styles and our processes are very different.

My chaotic, poetic spouse lives in a world of inspiration and improvisation. His amazing visions strike like a sudden storm and rain straight from his head to the computer keyboard. It's not uncommon to find him at the computer before dawn, headphones blaring music while he types with eyes closed. Often, he doesn't even remember what he has written, but it works for him, and the result is imbued with that creative energy.

I am less a thunderstorm and more a steady flood. My characters and storylines are a constant presence in the back of my mind as I go through my daily routine. They play out their possibilities over time and choose the words that suit them. When all is ready, the words rise and spill over onto paper. There is inspiration involved, to be sure, but the actual writing is thoughtful and deliberate. In the process of going from mind to paper, there are alterations, rephrasing, decisions to be made and frequent analysis of where I'm headed and how I'm getting there. The construction continues as the next step takes the piece from paper to computer. The edits are less substantial at that phase, but the process is still working toward a very specific end. It may seem more efficient, but the idea of working directly from my head into the finished computer file is alien to me.

These different approaches actually serve the story well as distinctive voices are important to our concept, and we rarely compete for computer time, but it has made stitching the final book together an interesting undertaking. Less devoted partners might have given up on the effort.

Now that we have the body of the book together, you might think that would be the end of it. Ship it off to a publisher, and sit back and relax. But the parenting continues. Our literary child has been dressed up and taught some basic manners. It has been visiting with some gentle friends and relatives and has returned home to Mom and Dad. Feedback has been positive, but there are a few small behavioral problems to address. We love our children for who they are but still strive to give them their best start in the world.

So, we are editing again, focusing our efforts on raising a book that is good for the world and stands the best chance of being treated kindly by it. If this blog is quieter than normal (and there's no guarantee it will be,) please understand that this is the reason. We are just trying to be the best parents we can be.