I worked on editing my novel for a little while last night. And let me tell you: it’s kind of awful.
Alright, for being something that I began writing about seven years ago, it’s not as bad as it could be given the quality of some of the things that I’ve written in the last seven years–eesh. It’s strange, though, to read something with the eyes of a writer after being in love with it for so long. This is certainly a product of Mount Union’s writing program. If I wasn’t able to see my novel with increasingly critical eyes, Mount’s mix of creative, journalistic, and professional writing would be wasted on me.
But this view of my own work is part of what makes me hesitant to refer to my book as my “baby.” I would hope that no one really looks at their kid with such mean and critical eyes as many writers regard their own work. This relationship, I suppose, is closer to one of those romantic relationships where the other person is reliant on you, but you become more and more critical of the person and the relationship until it either gets better or the relationship ends.
Here’s to hoping the relationship gets better instead of ending.