Finished. Maybe (Patricia Potter)

My work in progress, “Catch A Shadow,” is finished.
Well kinda.

It’s been the book from hell. There’s been repeated interruptions from a number of sources, most especially an ill mother. But much of it was my own doing. I painted myself into numerous corners and had to fight my way out.

It’s been that way with several of my suspense novels. I never work from an outline, only a loose synopsis that usually has nothing to do with the finished product. What I think will work in the beginning usually fails to do that. Once I get to know the characters, they just don't cooperate with some of the plot points I originally intended.

It’s strange the way characters take over a book. Sometimes it’s three or four chapters into the book. Sometimes a third of the way in. But if they don’t intercede at one point, you know in your heart it’s not going to be one of your best books.

I think every author waits for that moment when a character taps you on the shoulder and says, “Sheesh, I’m not going to do something that dumb.”

Another character pokes you in the stomach, “I want a bigger role.”

A third is clamoring for attention of another sort. He’s a villain and he kinda longs to be a good guy.

“No, won’t work,” you tell him. “You gotta go.”

He continues to protest.
All of this tends to mess up your book. And it did, big time.

But deadline time comes. And passes.

You try to shove your characters in place and demand they behave.
Reluctantly they allow me to finish.
Kinda.

It’s not as good or polished as I would like it to be, but then it never is. I always think another week, another month, another year and it would be ever so much better. Every time I look at a page, I see things I can do better.

But it’s past second deadline time.

So it goes into FedEx at 11 p.m. (I’m fortunate to live in Memphis, home of Fed Ex where one can send packages at 11 p.m. in Memphis and have them delivered in New York by 8:30 a.m. the next morning.) I must say that the Fed Ex office doesn’t blink an eye when I show up so frequently at two minutes before their bewitching hour.

Two weeks ago came revisions.

Editor queries: Why did the hero do this?

Well, I know why the hero did it. Why isn’t it clear to all and sundry?

Because it’s in your head and not on paper. (Not my editor saying this. The objective part of me is saying this.) I manage to acknowledge that fact. Back to the old keyboard.

Editor query: Do you have to tell me what’s she thinking 314 times. (Too polite to say it in exactly those words, but not too polite to suggest deletions of priceless prose.)
A. Slash, slash, slash.

Editor query: This doesn’t make sense (a scene).
A. I thought it made perfect sense. Until I read it again. Thank God for Editors.

Editor query: Is her name Elizabeth, or April or Mary? And this last name keeps changing.

A. (Frown. I guess I didn’t catch them all after all.) And then there are blue eyes turning to brown. A miracle!

Editor query: This scene is confusing.
A. Well, yes. I was confused too, but I hoped no one else would notice.

Revisions finished.

Maybe.

Now comes the line editing. Thank God for editors again.

Then the copy-edited version. More queries. Gee, did I really do THAT? More fixing.

Finally page proofs. Final read. My page proofs looks like someone else's original draft. Corrections all over the place. Been away from it for a while. Warts are more obvious.

But it's really, really finished.

Now this next book . . it's going to be easier.

Maybe.