Rest Period

As an editor myself, I'm not sure whether "self-editing" actually exists. By nature, editing seems to require such distance and objectivity that it's best done by a second party. However, we don't always have the luxury of working with skilled professionals, and sometimes have to make do with ourselves.

There are ways for an author to approximate distance. One is by letting a manuscript sit for a while, until you are less attached to the words you slaved over, the hours you invested. That's what I'm doing right now. Last week I printed out the first draft of my novel (hooray) and now I'm letting it age.

Dorothy Bryant, in Writing a Novel, suggests a six-week layoff:

... six weeks or more in which you don't write in it, read it, or if possible even think about it. One reason for this layoff is that you need to get distance from it. You must get out, clean up some space for your critic to work. You should aim to get so far away from it that when you look at it again, it will seem almost as if you are reading the work of someone else.

I've had that uncanny experience--reading a section and thinking, hey, that's pretty good, and having absolutely no memory of writing the words. I find that happens even more often when I've written the draft really quickly.

Bryant has another reason for taking a break, besides objectivity:

The second reason for a layoff is that physically and spiritually you are empty, exhausted. Before you can get back to the work of rewriting your infant book, you need a period of recovery. If you start rewriting too soon, you'll be going on your nerves and may end up in post partum depression and disorientation, of little use to yourself or your book. You need some pampering, rest, freedom. You need a change.

Even though I have read Bryant's advice, I'm not very good at practicing it. I showed up in my office on Monday, expecting myself to get down to work as usual (although not on the novel), and I couldn't do it. Anxiety, procrastination, they showed up in spades. I underestimated the mental and energetic fatigue of reaching this milestone. After all, I was only writing for an hour a day, tops. I know I have lots more work to do on the manuscript. And I feel like I don't have a lot of time left, with our adoption underway.

But after two completely unproductive days, I think I'm getting the message. I need to take my recovery seriously. I need to schedule some "guilt-free play," as Neil Fiore describes in his book The Now Habit:

Guilt-free play is based on the seeming paradox that in order to do productive, high-quality work on important projects, you must stop putting off living and engage wholeheartedly in recreation and relaxation. That's right, you can be more productive if you play more! And as you put the strategy of guilt-free play to use, you'll learn to play more and complete more work.

This strategy seems so contradictory. How will I get more done if I take more time off? I don't deserve it! I haven't worked hard enough up until now! My to-do list is demonstrating exponential growth! I won't be able to relax!

Fiore says that is a very dangerous voice to listen to. Down that path lies burnout and depression. Instead, listen to the voice that says, If I take time to play, it will "recharge [my] batteries, creating renewed motivation, creativity, and energy for all the other areas of [my] life. Knowing that work will not deprive [me] of enjoying the good things of life, [I] can more easily tackle a large task without the fear of having it rule [my] life."

In work with my therapist some years ago, I came up with a phrase to describe my task in healing: I wanted to take extravagant care of myself. Somewhere along the way, I forgot to do that. Now's the time to start again, so that when rest period is over, I can bring a happy, healthy, energized writer to that manuscript.