Rowan Oak Was the...
Stephen Alvarez
Buy This at Allposters.com
I finally did it. I
wrote a novel. There is still plenty to
be done. I have to revise – probably more
than I realize. In fact, I’m fairly
certain “revise” is an understatement. And
I still have to find an agent – haven’t even started looking yet. I’ve published my other two books in the
new-fangled DIY fashion, but I’d rather like to try the traditional route this
time. I started another novel about four
or five years ago, and I never got beyond about thirty-five thousand
words. Just couldn’t figure out what to
do with it, I guess. Then, in between
moving twice and changing computers, I *lost* what I had written. Ugh.
So I started over with a new story, new characters, new everything on
November 1, 2012, and I finished on July 11, 2013. Not too bad.
In the early evening, I knew how close I was to
finishing. I received my latest copy of Garden & Gun magazine and was
reading a book review written by none other than the master of the pen himself, Clyde
Edgerton. I began reflecting on
my own style and how far short it falls of my opinion of Edgerton’s work. He offered a quote from the book he was
reviewing. It was so poetic, so
esoteric, so like something I would have been assigned to read in college. The author was pictured wearing a wool suit
and looking very Faulkner-esque and intimidating. I hung my head even farther down. Could I ever attain this type of literary
greatness? Shaking my head, I opened the
lid of my laptop an hour later and wrote from my heart. The last chapter, the last words.
I hardly realized what I had done, though, until this
morning. I had a warm, fuzzy sense of
accomplishment when I typed the words, saved, and shut down the computer last
night. But it didn’t hit me that I had
actually come to the end of “banging out the first draft” for the first time in
my life. Fast forward to this morning. I was getting a new watch
battery at the jewelry store and found a bracelet I was tempted to buy. I thought, Oh, that’s ridiculous. Impulsive. I can’t buy that. Maybe if I were celebrating some
accomplishment. First, it occurred
to me that the new trolley tour project in which I have been involved finally
launched its inaugural tours last week.
I could have celebrated that, but decided that wasn't exactly worthy of jewelry. Then, as
I walked away from the counter, I remembered that I had finished writing the
first draft last night. Well, that’s something.
Later in the morning, I whizzed into the Beaner’s
drive-through for a cinnamon chai tea. I
shook my head at myself once again, wondering how I could justify blowing
nearly $5 on a tall cup of tea, no matter how delicious. But as I drove away, the weight of my
accomplishment fell on me like a boulder.
This is a first in my lifetime. I
laid down perfectionism, pushed through, and I finished! I did it.
I became misty-eyed. I thanked God,
and I asked for His help with the rest of the project. And I sipped that $5 cinnamon chai tea,
without guilt, all the way home. I
deserved it.
