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I’ve received feedback today on three manuscripts: a picture book, a young adult book and a historical fiction. It’s all been helpful (so helpful) but is a reminder that the work is not yet done. It feels a little bleak that I may have started the shipping work too early.
At times like these, I am set adrift in a bay of unanchored boats all clinking into each other. The noise of them rattling against each other unnerves me as I try to determine which needs my attention.
The new and shiny but unfinished one?
The one that has been repaired, stripped, repainted and reconstructed so many times it is hard to see what it is anymore? The Frankenstein story.
The one I can still smell the wet paint and wonder if there are leaks?
Or the small one that I built in a frenzy and it came out whole but I have now realised it has a leak or two or three?
This is all part of the shipping work of writing. I focus back on the new one. My energy fits this best at the moment. I tie the others down, set their anchors and let them know I’ll be back to inspect them soon.
