In the sometimes endless cycle of critiques, edits, reviews, and comments, I had to ask if the bones were good.
I'm going to take this beautiful song out of context here, but this is a personal blog, so I will explain how it really hits home for me.
Yeah, life sure can try to put love through it, but
We built this right, so nothing's ever gonna move it
When the bones are good, the rest don't matter
Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter
Let it rain 'cause you and I remain the same
When there ain't a crack in the foundation
This song makes me think of my first "real" novel, Dark Horse of Mankato Farm. It was completely torn down by an editor I trusted whole-heartedly. It wasn't demolished though. The roof came off, the wallpaper was peeled off, the flooring was ripped off. Beneath these painful removals, the strong "bones" of the house were revealed. We rebuilt it. The walls were repainted. New flooring was laid. The siding became a different shade. Perhaps the most significant was the new roof - made of new materials, but still a roof, and it protected those "bones".
Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I
Can't even mess it up, though we both try
No, it don't always go the way we planned it
But the wolves came and went and we're still standing
When the bones are good, the rest don't matter
Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter
Let it rain 'cause you and I remain the same
When there ain't a crack in the foundation
Currently, I have 2 manuscripts heavy on my mind and heart. True North is strong in the sense that it is complete, everything is set, it's for sale, and it just needs a realtor to sell it. It's ready to leave my sole possession and be open for the world to decide to purchase.
It was years of construction to get to this point.
True North was a WIP for so long the paint peeled from age. Critique groups have thrown rocks and shattered the glass. Rain and storms have come, flooding the inside, leaving me with three choices; demolish it, leaving it as it sat, or rebuilding. I will admit, remodeling and repairs are expensive (in the sense of time) and will always, always, bring surprises and mistakes and changes of plans. It's daunting. Especially when you just spent so much time repairing and replacing and landscaping to present it perfectly.
After all these years, I could demolish it. I could just mark it up to experience, put it in the drawer writers have, and forget about it. Chalk it up to practice and leave it at that. I can't even convince my best friend to read it, so how could I ever convince anyone else to read it?
I could have left it as it sat. I could have surveyed the damage and just walked away with the memory in my mind of how I'd built it. Leaving it on my computer and on Drive to revisit for my personal pleasure reading meant it could live as I had it. Or I could clutch it tightly to my chest, fight for it to remain in its form, and press on with agents I hadn't queried yet.
This was tempting because after so many years, did I want to give it more of my life?
Obviously, I chose the third option. During True North's adolescence, I had members of writing groups that threw rocks, set small fires, swung sledges, and wanted to raze it. As True North developed into an adult, I've taken the input from grad school, from agents and editors when I paid the $ for the time to ask for their opinion, openly. In the last few years the people who shattered glass, pulled down walls, ripped out flooring, and called the paint in the bedroom ugly were also the ones that called the window replacement company, that handed me the sledgehammer to pull down the walls and cheered for me as I did so. The ones that showed me a better flooring option helped me figure out how to install it on my own. The ones that showed me paint swatches and handed me brushes never questioned the "bones". They knew the bones were good, and how to build something even better on top of those bones. There was no destruction now, just remodeling and repair.
I did have to stand in the woods where two roads diverged (I was feeling you, Frost), and it was hard to take a step. On one path, I could stay "loyal" to my story and continue on with it how I had meant it to be. On the other, to change things about it to conform to the suggestions of readability and marketability. To those writers out there that stand by the work they've written as a matter of principle, I am a sell-out for choosing to follow marketability. Here's the thing, though - the tweaks and changes I made were not in pursuit of money (writers make how much on average anyway? $0 for most), but in pursuit of marketability to have that hope of sharing this idea with others. I want people to find this story and feel its bones. I don't care about the roof's color or how long the driveway is; I want to show the world that the bones are good.
Then, there is the "Other" work in progress that does not even have a proper name. The bones are good, its foundation is there, but it has been torn down to the studs so many times that each time I tear them down, I'm afraid the studs won't hold the rebuilding. I have erased everything and began at the beginning multiple times. I am not exaggerating when I say there's been over a million words written around the idea of the "Other" and it has yet to come together around the bones. At this moment, I have a binder with a print-out of it, with so much ink in the margins that the option is here yet again to tear it completely down and begin again.
And that may be its eternal fate. Maybe the bones will never build a beautiful home. But, as long as I can see the solid foundation, and see its bones are good, I will keep trying.
When there ain't a crack in the foundation (woo)
Baby, I know any storm we're facing
Will blow right over while we stay put
The house don't fall when the bones are good
Thank you @marenmorris??? for gifting me with your voice delivering these lyrics to my ears and brain.