We’re in another new year, another new cycle, and we have another chance to decide where our work will fit in our lives and how we will clear space for it. Because my last book was for school-age children, I got a children’s book agent. Because she represents work for young readers, I decided to stretch myself and try writing a picture book. Through this process, I discovered that my agent is a perfectionist and a pretty rigorous editor. We went through over ten rounds on the picture book. She’s way more involved in the development of the work than my past agent. (And I’m curious to know how involved she gets with longer form work—I guess that remains to be seen.)
As I was procrastinating on my next project, I went back to a project she had given me feedback on. I decided to do another round of edits. Then while I was at it, I roughed out a new picture book manuscript. When I say roughed out, I mean it’s *really* rough. I have parenthesis where words are missing and passages that I intend to smooth out, but the structure is there and the concept for the book was clear.
As I watch the way I’m working now, I marvel at how different I am now than when I was a younger writer. Earlier in my career, I put things through drafts and drafts of revisions. I wouldn’t let anyone see anything I wrote until I thought it was perfect. I remember once, many years ago, an editor asked to see the first draft of something so that she could weigh in on the direction. I gasped out loud when I heard her request. The first draft?!? That was for no one’s eyes but mine.
Over the years, however, I have loosened my grip. I don’t have time to waste. Why fine tune something if the overall structure isn’t what it needs to be. Now, I’m not shy about sharing imperfect drafts. I don’t bother investing my energy into beautiful sentences and perfect scenes. I start rough and route my early work rough. That way I’m not attached when an editor suggests a new direction.
Though my editor of my first novel never said it, I know she was worried when she received my first draft. She didn’t directly comment on the work, but she gave me a list of recommended books to read. I never read the books. I knew she was worried because the writing had no finesse or heart to it. I wasn’t worried, because I knew what I was capable of delivering. She had the big idea to restructure the book so that each chapter came from a different character. That required a bit of juggling on my end, and I also took the time to refine the text and develop the writing. She was shocked when she received the next draft. She said she had never seen such a leap between drafts before in terms of the quality of the writing. I, on the other hand, was neither surprised nor shocked. I know what I’m capable of and I knew that I was planning to develop the langauge.
I think it requires a bit of confidence to share work that isn’t fully developed or well-polished. You risk others losing confidence in your abilities or judging your development as an artist. I can withstand those judgments. I know what I’m capable of and I know the pacing of how I develop manuscripts. It’s incredible how much has changed from when I first started writing. Back then, I wouldn’t share anything until I knew where it was going and exactly how I wanted to flesh it out. Now, I’ll throw ideas at the wall and see what sticks. I don’t think one is better than the other, but I know that showing early, rough drafts brings collaboration into the room sooner. It gives me space to take on feedback and build it in without destroying what I created. And it gives me time to sink into the story and find my way without the pressure of needing to get it right at the beginning.
Hope your new ideas are finding shelter, and you’re finding ways to express them, even if they start out rough and unrefined. The creative journey can be long and winding and there’s space for every iteration of our ideas on the arc of development.
Onward!
—K.