My last column, I talked about the difficulty of saying goodbye to a very special book. This month, I’m having the opposite problem. I hate my book. I loved it when I came up the idea. I loved it when I wrote up the proposal. I loved it when I get the call from an editor saying they’re going to buy the book. And then I loved it for about five more minutes.
Unfortunately, this is the norm for me. As soon as I have a deadline and I have to finish the thing, a little voice in my head pipes up, and it’s ugly. There’s something wrong with this book, it says. You didn’t think this through. Yes, there’s definitely something wrong with this book.
I try to write through it, all the while pushing aside that nagging voice in my ear. But it only gets worse. What made you think this was a good idea? This can’t work. It will never work. The plot is flawed, the characters weak.
I can rewrite it later, I tell the voice. Just let me get to “the end” and I’ll be able to see what’s wrong with it and fix it.
I write a few more chapters. By now, the voice is screaming. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? This book sucks! They’re going to ask for their money back, fool! You can’t write! Give up and start over.
The voice has been known to taunt me at other times. What possessed you to eat an entire pizza? But mostly it hangs around when I’m writing.
The voice isn’t all bad. Once I’m done with the first draft, the voice changes its tune as I shift into revision mode. You can do this. You can fix this. Oh, this part’s working. Maybe you do know what you’re doing. Sorry!
So what is it? Where does it come from? It’s not a voice from my past. It’s not my mother, or a former teacher, or even a former editor. No flesh-and-blood person has ever told me to my face that I should quit, that I’m not good.
I can’t shut off the voice, but I can ignore it when it’s acting snarky. I don’t let it trick me into quitting. I push ahead despite the doubts. Yet, sometimes I wish I had the confidence some other writers have, or seem to have, the ones who love their books from start to finish and never falter in their absolute belief in and passion for their stories.
Do you have a still, small voice–or a really loud, nagging one? What does it tell you? What do you tell it? Does it serve a useful purpose? Can you get rid of it, replace it, or at least train it? If you’re one of those writers who love, love, love their books from beginning to end, how do you do that? Please share!
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I definitely waffle with love/hate. It amazes me how I can read a passage and think it’s freakin’ brilliant, then go back a couple of days later and think it’s crap. It’s the same passage! And I’m not always tired or tipsy when I think it’s crap.
Overall, however, I love the book as I write it. When I’m editing the final draft, OTOH, the moment it turns back into a pile of crap is the moment I know it’s done and ready to go. Happens. Every. Time. At this point in my writing life, if it didn’t, I’d probably never send it to my editor cuz I wouldn’t be sure it was done.
It’s so totally weird only another writer would understand *gg*.
Used to call mine “editor on the shoulder.”
It took a while, but I finally duct taped him inside a trash bag with that pair of fuzzy blue dumbbells I got from WalMart and was never going to use anyway and threw him in the river. Apparently he has internet down there, because he still sends IMs every now and then. I set my message filter to “ignore.”
The moment I send out on submission, the voice yells “This SUCKS!”
I write really, really fast to outpace That Voice
Of course, after I send the book away, it tends to start screaming, but I drown it out with chocolate, episodes of Firefly, good books I didn’t have the concentration to read while I was writing, time with my family and hiking Olympic Nat’l Park. 
Yes, once it’s out there in the public eye! The public eye includes agent, editor, anyone but me. That’s why we writers love it when readers are kind enough to write us and tell us how much they enjoyed a book. We need those other voices!
Ann–Yes, it’s somewhat comforting to know other writers go through this!
KeVin–Love it! Would you come over and take care of mine, please? I wonder if you can hire an inner-editor hitman?
Bernita–strangely, once I send something out, I barely think of it again. Me and my IE (Internal Editor) are off to the next project.
Charlene–great suggestions. I particularly like the idea of drowning it in chocolate. And it is true, the faster I write, the less I hear from IE.
Kimber An–many writers don’t have the critical internal voice. I have a critique partner who loves everything she writes all the time. If she gets rejected, she just tends to think the editor is a moron.
Laura–I try not to even read reviews. But amen about letters from readers. They are so, so wonderful. I have a file of particularly good ones that I read whenever I need a little boost.
Mine doesn’t start until the final revision stage, and then it’s very loud and clear that everything I’ve written is crap and it’s unsalvageable. I actually get sick to my stomach during the final days before I turn in a manuscript.
I get to a point when I’m writing on deadline when I hate the book. I’m sure it’s horrible and I’ll never sell another manuscript again. My poor hubby is very patient with me at this point. Never lasts too long and I just force myself to keep going, but I wish I could bypass this particular part of my writing process.
Fortunately I’ve never had a voice screaming at me that I’m no good and that I write drivel. That may still come … who knows. But I have had a voice peek over my shoulder and say “You wrote that? Hey, that’s not half bad, but you can do better.”
Terrific blog, Kara. I’ll have to check this site out more often.
I just had this with my last WIP. I’m a pantser and since I had to do a synopsis for this before I wrote it I felt like the story was done. As if I’d already written it. I’m hoping not to do a synopsis first in the future – I think it kills it for me.
I get this when I write a longer book, until lately I’ve been doing novellas and short stories. With a short I’m done writing before the doubts kick in.
I’ve noticed doubts show up more when I don’t push through writing, when I take days off or stretch out a manuscript throughout the year. If I’m just going strong and not giving myself time to think, I usually feel great about my work as well, as completing the book faster.
OMG, Kara — I laughed all the way through your column!
I can soooo relate. Why, why, why does the idea that sounded so wonderful BEFORE I start writing the book turn to dust after about, oh, page 10?
And like you, I’ve never had anybody try to shoot down any of my attempts to express myself (some of which have been totally harebrained, believe me). But yeah, “What were you THINKING?” goes through the old brain a few hundred times during the course of every…single…book. The only thing that’s kept me from going completely bald over the last dozen years is knowing, after the first draft, I still have the chance to fix it.
And fix it, I do — at least well enough to satisfy my editor, myself, and enough readers to make us both happy. All those plates I tossed up in the air do eventually come down, in the right order, without crashing; all the loose ends do get tied up; all the scenes that don’t fit get tweaked, moved, or axed. After the fourth pass or so (when rampant hatred has given way to brain-numbing boredom), I’m usually satisfied enough with the book to let it go.
And by the time it’s in print, I love it again. Usually because I’m up to my eyeballs in another book, which I of course loathe and detest with every fiber of my being, so naturally I long to be back again in a project that, being complete, looks easy and brilliant in comparison.:mrgreen:
But, you know, I sometimes wonder if that annoying IE — which I’ve battled to the death over the course of nearly thirty books — is actually more of a blessing than a curse, keeping the Muse from going off on TOO many tangents. At least the dang thing makes me stop and think, before I get too far into a scene, whether what I’m doing makes any sense whatsoever. Sometimes I may choose to ignore the Voice and go on to uncover some wonderful little nugget of motivation or characterization I might not have otherwise discovered. Other times, though, listening to the Voice has saved me hours of rewrites.
None of which lessens the pain, I realize. But sometimes, the best any writer can do is just make peace with the little bugger and get on with it!
You mean it doesn’t go away once you become a published author.:shock: I really thought my inner voice/criticism came because of my lack of experience, etc. I was thinking once I get published it would go away.
As to where it comes from, my Pastor would say its the voice of the devil trying to keep you from your blessing. But one thing my mom always said is that she never had to be hard on me because I was always so hard on myself, and I’ve never really felt like that was such a bad thing so I’ll put up with the voice.:smile:
Ah, my voice only really acts up when I’m NOT writing, and tries to make sure I never write again… What’s the point… you know when you re-read it’ll be rubbish… better not to try… but usually if I get my butt in the chair and dive in, it changes its tone.
I suppose the trick has to be knowing when to ignore and when to listen…
I’m a pantser and since I had to do a synopsis for this before I wrote it I felt like the story was done. As if I’d already written it.
Me too!!! I’m working on my very first proposal right now (for what will be my third book) and I’m not loving the process.
I actually don’t hate writing synopses.
It’s following them that’s the problem.
I’m also spoiled, because I’ve been working with the same editor for more than ten years and a whole bunch of books, so basically my synopses for her are six or so pages of premise and motivation, not a whole lot of plot, which lots of ??? and (parenthetical comments) tossed in. Since she knows I’ll make it work (thereby trusting me far more than I generally trust myself), we’re both good with this so-called “method.”
A method which, alas, will not work with anyone you don’t have a really, really close and long professional relationship with. For some reason, “Here’s my idea, trust me,” doesn’t wash with most editors and agents.
So here I am, writing a book on spec for a new genre. Ninety percent in, I decided to take a peek at the 15 page synopsis I’d actually written for it. Oddly, I’d worked in almost every plot element, but in a totally different order.:lol:
Sometimes, that’s just the way it works.
Gah. I swear I’m going to hire someone who will read my books and write the synopsises for me. Hate!
“the voice of the devil trying to keep you from your blessing”–I like that.
Like Charli, I try to out-write the voice. I hear it, particularly toward the middle of the manuscript. But if I’m doing Fast Draft, I don’t have time to listen.
Kalen–it’s so weird how the self-talk differs for each person. Revision stage, I hardly hear a peep out of mine that’s negative. Revising and fixing is a bit more methodical for me, less right-brain creative, which might have something to do with it.
Melissa–yes, my husband is long-suffering, too. “You hate every book. Just write the damn thing,” is his response lately! Can’t blame him.
Liz–ya, mine starts out saying “you can do better.” Then it adds, “lazy slut.” (Okay, lest you all think I’m really certifiable, my IE doesn’t really call me a slut. Lazy and unimaginative, maybe.)
Michelle–I could never write a book without a synopsis–I am in awe of pantsers.
Shelli–Absolutely! The longer I drag out the writing process, the less confidence I have as I write. Best to get it all out in a rush. I read somewhere that Michael Crichton writes his first draft in 30 days–and his books are looooong.
Karen–LOL, misery loves company. I love all my books after they’ve been in print a while. Sometimes I look back at my old books and think, “I used to be a better writer.” Objectively I know that’s not true.
HWJ–I’m afraid the IE gets worse after you’re published. Don’t know why. But I love what you said about your Pastor. Maybe the IE isn’t so much the devil as our own fears, trying to prevent us from putting ourselves out there and getting hurt. There’s a thought.
Anna Lucia–Oooooh, I really hate that “What’s the point?” You have to tell it, “The point is, I love to write and I have to write this story for myself, even if no one buys it.”
Kalen & Annie Dean–I love writing my synopsis because that’s when I plot my book. At RWA this summer I’m giving a workshop called “The Synopsis Queen Tells All” in which I’ll try to make the process less painful!
Jordan–I’ve heard wonderful things about “Fast Draft,” also “Book In A Week.”
My voice usually stays pretty quiet until I have that feeling of triumph at typing “the end”. Then he kicks in and drives me insane by telling me the characters suck, the plot is lame, the time period’s all wrong. And to make it worse, he seems to get a little louder with each draft. By the time the manuscript goes out the door, I hate the book because of that idiot gorilla.
Then I start all over again. I must be a masochist (or is it sadist? I can never remember which is which)
I’m just not a plotter. I hate to plot. My books evolve (I know that sounds nuts, but it’s true). Besides, I think my biggest selling point is voice, not plot. LOL! It’s not like I write romantic suspense.
I had no trouble writing a synopsis for a finished book, that’s easy. It’s writing a synopsis for a book that doesn’t exist yet that’s killing me. All my friends who’ve been at this for years tell me to just write it, sell it, then never look at it again. So that’s what I’m trying to do (within reason, of course, as the book will need to looks somewhat like what I sold).
LOL! This is one close to my heart this week, since I’m finishing a book. The next book is whispering that it will be a MUCH better book to write. It will behave itself. It will reel itself out like a spider’s silk, weaving itself into such beautiful shape I won’t have to do anything. Really! It promises to be The Best Book Ever.
Which is what this one said, lo these many months ago. It promised it would be easy, beautiful, seductive. It promised to weave itself into extraordinary loveliness if only I would just arrive and put my fingers on those keys….
hahahahaha
They all say that and it’s alway hard. They never weave themselves. Wretched, beloved creatures, every one.
Kimberly–I think maybe my voice is so hoarse by the time I finish my first draft, it has no choice but to stop yelling. I’m afraid I would never get it out the door. Not that I think my book is brilliant after the fourth or fifth draft, but I always feel like–it’ll do.
Kalen–I know a lot of writers whose finished books do not resemble the synopsis they started with. I think most editors are not surprised when that happens. Usually I stick pretty close, but my current book–I’ve gone way off course!
Barbara Samuel–Hey, girl! So glad you stopped by. Yes, I’m itching to get to the new one which is so brilliant, so long as it’s still in my head. Wretched, beloved creatures–you got that right!
I felt good about my manuscript.
My query got a bite, and I felt fantastic about my manuscript. 
The instant I submitted pages, it began to suck. 
I think it’s my way of preparing for rejection. When it comes: “Well, of course she rejected it. You knew it was crap.” A rational person would not find that comforting, but I’m a writer, not a rational person!
Otherwise, the worst I’ve felt about a story is while editing for length. When your favorite draft tops out at 130,000 words, the amputations are painful. Then the voice says, “Now you’ve done it. It’s dead. All the best parts are in the Spare Parts file and what’s left is lifeless and attracting flies.”
Yet I keep writing, the goal being to reach this point of self-flagellation again. Rational? I think not.
Kara, thanks for this! I’m just now avoiding sitting down to write some of this novel that I hate deeply from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know why. I must have liked it at some point!
But the sulky voice in my head is just refusing. ‘Don’t wanna. Can’t make me.’
I can’t work out if I should listen and start something completely different, or ignore it and plough on. Oh boy…
Nikki–
It’s hard to know whether to push ahead or abandon sometimes. I have tons of books that got abandoned at the proposal stage–usually because of a bad critique that only confirmed what I’d suspected. (It usually takes more than one bad critique to convince me to abandon something, though.)
I usually push ahead, though, even when I have my doubts. Because, let’s face it, the middle of the book isn’t as fun to write as the beginning. The important thing is not to develop a pattern of abandoning everything just when the writing gets hard. Your mind will trick you, sometimes, into believing your book is crap when really it’s just trying to get out of doing the hard work it takes to finish!
Kerry, I must have somehow missed your comment when you first posted. That is a good point–we may be preparing ourselves for rejection. Those early rejections were very painful, so maybe we’re playing headgames with ourselves to avoid the pain.
Yes, “lifeless and attracting flies”–funny!
Kara
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