I emerge again from my underground moley-hole of essay writing to find our house is full of happy Chris-mess decorations and dishes that need doing. I have to say that I enjoyed this semester’s module and the essays we had to write. For once, I had too much to say and found the word count a frustrating fence line.
“I think I could write a thesis,” I thought to myself in the bath that followed me pressing the send button on my assignments. But that was pride speaking. I don’t think I could write a thesis. And Tim would say that my having too much to say was not a one off occurrence. A conversation the other day ended with me saying,
“We’re you about kiss me or did I imagine it?”
To which he replied,
“Yes, but you started talking.”
One of the things I love about essay writing is the opportunity to explore communication. I love creative communication. Alongside this essay writing journey I have been writing a novel. The word craft and development of skill has gone hand in hand with the essay writing. And my bath-time wallow was a contented celebration of the wonderful world of words.
I had the pleasure of pressing the send button on my novel at the end of November. Done! Of course, it wasn’t long before it came back to me to adjust, but I still had a satisfied feeling that it was done. Or is it ever done? The imperfection of our creativity means there is always a little more to be done.
Lots has been learnt, but now it is done I am completely overwhelmed by a the humbling sense that it’s all been an exercise to learn from and I have much more to learn. I might be going about this all the wrong way but the idea of learning more about writing well is very exciting. Almost as much as I love words, I love learning.
My novel is now being poured through the filter of another editor and, as I lay in the bath this morning wallowing in that feeling of satisfaction, it came to me. The reason I feel so contented about this particular editor, in whose hands my book rests right now, is because he is the only one I trust to put things right. That doesn’t mean that I don’t trust other editors, of course I do. I am extremely grateful for the expertise and advice I have had from others, but I think other people are too kind. When you have climbed trees, invented imaginary worlds, played crazy games, competed against, crafted stories, built forts, sailed boats, put the world to rights, created armies, played music, tussled with, shared your sweets with, argued with, encouraged and supported your editor, you respect their opinion far more and give them full permission to say what needs to be said. Of course he’s kind too!
I might be biased but from the early days of writing stories about the Mugglewop while sitting in a jacaranda tree he has had my admiration for his skill and as I let my novel sift through his filter, I am still in admiration of his expertise.
Can I have a round of applause for the one and only…