Prioritizing the Book
When all else fails, fail at everything else
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Yesterday I got lost in my book revisions. I woke early, like I do every day, but the week was spread out before me, courtesy of the upcoming holiday (whose premise I oppose).
When I had told myself how I was going to approach this week, this precious week without classes or teaching, I promised I’d be a good student and draft the long research papers which are inevitably due at the end of every semester. But when this week came, I said, well, fuck those papers, and fuck being a good student.
I asked myself: what means the most to me?
So, what is it? What means the most to me right now?
My book.
The book I’ve been revising for the past year and a half, over and over again. The one I have been very slowly working on all semester. So slowly, in fact, that I am now behind on my revisions. The one that needs to be as perfect as I can get it.
My first book. The one that’s supposed to come out Spring 2025.
I asked myself: why should I work on these research papers, which can surely be patched together in the final hour, when I have this book, which cannot and should never be patched together in the final hour?
So this week I am working on my book. Every day. All day.
Yesterday I woke early and reread my outline, and refined my outline, and wove my way into the third chapter, and connected a thread I’ve been trying to create for the past couple years. It took me all damn day, as things do.
Or it took me two years, as things do.
There are many chapters in this book that are mostly fine as is, and won’t need much attention. But there are also many chapters that need to be made or remade in order to create a less linear and more thematic structure, while still retaining a sense of forward movement through time.
I’ve been researching this book for nearly five years and yet I still find myself referencing sources to make sure I’ve really got it right. There is my story— the story of a wildland firefighter who was also an alcoholic who was also a bulimic who was also still a child.
That story alone almost seems easy to tell on its own (though it isn’t), but that’s not the only story I’m telling.
There’s also the story of the colonization of the United States and its continued impacts, especially in the context of fire suppression.
And there are other stories— of discrimination, of Indigenous fire, of love and hope and loss and heartbreak and climate change and irreparable damages and rebirth.
It’s been difficult to hold all these stories in my head while also doing my PhD.
In order to create one story from all these stories I have to hold them all together, which requires a massive amount of focus and attention.
What does this process look like? Well, over the past two revisions of this book I’ve had a fast turnaround time— about three months total each time to revise in the midst of all of my other work. During these revisions I sped through the manuscript, skipping over the complex parts and telling myself I’d come back later. This time I’m telling myself not to skip over anything. Get it right as I go. Let it take as long as it takes. My ability to do this is partially because of the generosity of my publisher, Grove Press, and my editor, who has told me to take my time. The book is the priority; not the speed at which it is written or revised.
Every time I start to feel urgency I take a deep breath and tell myself: this will take as long as it takes. Then I get back to work.
So, I’m not traveling for the holidays. I am doing the absolute minimum when it comes to everything but my book (and a couple other smaller creative commitments). I will go for walks and maybe I will go to the springs and I will listen to podcasts and I will write this newsletter and I will wake up every day and work on my book until the revision is finished. Until the book is finished. Until it is the best I can possibly make it. And then I will give it to my editor.
I will not rush.
I will work.
And I will give myself a gift at the end of it.
I never give myself gifts.
It’s a problem, I know.
But I have promised myself that if I finish this book by a specific date which I will not name (like, really finish it, as in it’s as perfect as I can make it)
then I will buy a ticket to a city in Europe.
Whichever ticket is cheapest.
And I will go there for one week.
And I will celebrate my accomplishment (because I never celebrate my accomplishments). When I forget to celebrate my accomplishments, both big and small, I forget about the progress I’ve made, both personally and professionally.
I will celebrate myself. I will eat delicious food and sit in coffee shops and walk and walk and walk and remember who I am outside of the context of my PhD program and the United States and the English language.
Celebrating in this way is partially possible because of a financial gift I received from a complete stranger in September. A gift of pure generosity which shifted the landscape of my life— not because of the amount of money I was given, but because I was given anything at all, with no strings attached. It was as if the universe whispered to me: I’ve got you.
I am choosing to believe I am supported, even when it feels otherwise. Because I know it’s true. Because despite the horrors in our world, we are good. Every single person I know is trying their best to be good.
So, this week I am working on my book, and that is the gift I am giving my future self. Not only a little trip but also a finished book I am proud of, which in my estimation is way more important than three brilliant research papers.
We have to choose, right?
And this is what I choose.
<3
What are you choosing this week? Or not choosing? I’d love to hear about it.
(a thank you to
, who wrote about devoting their morning pages practice to their current book project, which in part inspired this essay. Marlee’s newsletter is wonderful)
I love the words you used to say you will give yourself a gift. Most often when people talk about this concept, they say the will reward themselves. I'm not sure why, the idea of a "gift" seems much more loving than a "reward." Perhaps it's my feeling ng that a reward is given for meeting someone else's expectations. A gift is so much more gentle and unconditional. I find myself hoping that you consider giving yourself a grace period, rather than denying yourself your trip to Europe unless you perform perfectly. 💚
I have come across quite a few people talking about this idea of enough.
Like you, I never give myself gifts. I am planning to give myself a gift after I finish my manuscript draft.