I’ve neglected this Substack for a few months now. Bad Substack author, bad! But I have a good reason: I was cranking to finish a revision on a deadline that fell right before before my husband and I went to Copenhagen to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, and I didn’t want to go on vacation with work hanging over my head, even if it was fun work. So, for a few months, I made the revision my priority and let most other things else slip, including this Substack.
The conventional wisdom is that writers have to post regularly here if they want to “build their platform,” but when I have the choice is between finishing my novel and writing a Substack post, the novel wins, which is part of the reason I haven’t turned on paid subscriptions. The pressure of a weekly (nonfiction) deadline is something I don’t want to do to myself right now.
Anyway, I finished the revision, sent it off to my editor, and went to Copenhagen, where I ate my weight in pastries and then some. Why Copenhagen? Well, I’d never been there, and it was on my bucket list, partly because my maternal great-grandparents were Danish and migrated to the U.S. from Denmark (thank you very much, Ancestry.com and your damn waving leafs that seduce me with “hints” about my ancestors).
Also, family lore held that a sailboat my dad had was once owned by the King of Denmark—WHICH IT TURNS OUT IT WAS—but the story of my quest to confirm that is for another post. Finally, I’d also heard Copenhagen was a wonderful city. Which it was.
Now I’m waiting for edits on my novel.1 To make the wait more bearable, I took the advice of my friend/writing teacher Elizabeth Stark and started forging ahead on my next project. “Forging ahead” makes it sound like I’m churning out 10,000 words a day, when the truth is more that I’m spending a week on a 300-word prologue, with most of the time allocated to “researching” (i.e., going down Internet rat holes) the cooperative feeding habits of white pelicans. And ancient Maya codices. (There may or may not be a link.)
I’ve finally resorted to a technique championed by Ellen Sussman: I insert brackets and type the thing I need to research, like “[NAMES OF SHOREBIRDS]” or “[FANCYPANTS ARCHITECTURAL STYLES OF THE 1960S],” into the text so I can deal with it later.
Not gonna lie: It’s slow going. My somewhat embarrassing problem is that I’ll sit down to start working on a new scene—or I’ll have an idea for a Substack post—and the voice of my Inner Critic will muscle in to offer its opinion.
See if any of these sound familiar:
“Nobody will want to read about X [insert topic/story/scene idea here].”
“If you write about that, people will get mad.”
“You used to be a good writer, but you’re not anymore.”
“You’ve forgotten how to write.”
“You don’t know enough about this subject to write about it. Do more research.”
“That other writer is so much better than you.2 Why bother?”
And on and on. You get the idea. And OF COURSE I know the voice is wrong (probably), and ridiculous, and I should know better after several books, so I tell it to shut the fuck up. I reread what the wonderful Tara Mohr says about quieting the inner critic.
Then my Inner Critic switches tactics. It tells me I need to do all manner of housework and paperwork RIGHT NOW, or read and/or answer email (don’t ask me how many unread emails I have), because doing all those things will be productive. Before I know it, the day is over, and all I want to do is stream Netflix, slackjawed.
Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, I know another round of edits are coming. I’m waiting. And I’m not good at waiting, even though it’s part of the job description when you’re an author.
So tell me: What do you do when you’ve finished a major project, whether it’s a first draft or a revision, while you’re waiting for feedback? Do you take a break from the work? Dive right into the next project? Clean out your bookshelves?
Let me know in the comments. Feel free to confess not only constructive strategies but your most outlandish ways of avoiding the blank page. I’m here for you.
The photo that started this post is from one of my favorite pieces at the Design Museum Denmark: “Bottled Pondering” by Aepenton. No, I didn’t steal it. Yes, they sell the bottles in the museum gift shop. Museum gift shops are the best.
I’ll leave you with a photo of what I ate every day for breakfast in Copenhagen. Swear to God, butter and coffee would be on my family’s coat of arms, if we had one.
A friend commented recently that “It seems like most of publishing seems like waiting.” Yes. No matter how experienced a writer you are, this is SO TRUE.
Last night, this one popped up after I read David Sedaris’s latest essay in The New Yorker, “Your Hip Surgery, My Headache,” which made me laugh out loud and which I insisted on reading to my husband while he was trying to play solitaire on his phone.
I want to know more about those pastries in Denmark. 😄
This is a terrific post. It’s so funny and relatable. Super easy to read. The most outlandish thing I did while waiting for editor feedback was became a reiki master. Now, when my manuscript is with readers, I work on building my Substack, taking a break, celebrating the milestone, ideate new projects, pitch articles, and journal about how I feel.