The manuscript is my child, my baby. That first draft is a labor intense experience and seems to never end. It possesses my strengths and my weaknesses. When I hold my manuscript up to share, it is part of me that is being looked at. She is an extension of me and so those first critiques are personal.
As I work with her, my aim is to improve her so that others will love her as I do.
With each draft I mold her and slowly step away from her so that I don't see as much of me in her as I did in the beginning. I support her as she begins to stand on her own.
The rebellion teenage years are a struggle as she tries to find her place. Through revisions and rewrites she searches to find her own unique self. When at last she reaches adulthood, she is a whole, secure, fully developed, beauty inside and out. She is prepared to last through the ages. She looks forward to the aging of her pages becoming smooth and soft from being caress by her readers. The cracks along her spin are evidence of love and the warm smell of ink on paper make her a memory that last.
No comments:
Post a Comment