Working On It...

Notes from the revision process

I am currently plumbing the abyss (or that’s what it sometimes feels like), working on what is likely the final (big) revision of my book, HOTSHOT. The book is slated to come out in Spring 2024, published by Grove Press.

I am reminding myself to keep in touch with you.

I am reminding myself that these newsletters do not have to be perfect little capsules with perfectly written thoughts and beliefs and conclusions.

Part of the revision process is, for me, a process of rediscovery.

How have I locked myself into a particular idea (or ideas) of this manuscript, and how can I release myself from them?

How can I allow myself to explore new forms and structures while also staying oriented in the text?

How can I continue to trust myself as a writer, who is writing from my lived experience?

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I take a lot of walks.

My favorite park in Tallahassee at my favorite time of the day.

In the midst of my revisions, I am also taking three graduate level courses and teaching two composition classes.

I know I said that already.

I will probably say it again.

I need to remind myself how much I am holding.

What I am not holding is social media. I closed all of my social media accounts a few weeks ago, and I am grateful for that choice.

I keep asking myself how I am doing everything.

I won’t say that relieving myself of the energetic pull and suck of social media is how I am doing everything, but I know it’s a big part of how I am doing everything.

There is a kind of renewed focus in my life without it.

There is no part of me that wants to return.

I am more grounded.

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In the mornings I wake and work on my book. My phone lies inert, stored in my bathroom drawer.

I don’t look at it until I have to, which is usually around 10 or 11 am.

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I have found that the only way I can trust myself to work on my book is to work on my book first thing in the morning, for three or four hours. Sometimes five or six.

This way, I can’t create excuses, or convince myself that something else is more urgent than my book.

I’ve told myself: if something doesn’t get done, at least that thing won’t be my book.

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In the morning I meditate for fifteen minutes.

I go outside when the light comes, because I know that’s good for me.

I smell the air and listen to the birds and walk around my little apartment complex. I cringe at the cars with purposefully loud exhausts. I experience presence.

Then I come inside and sit at my desk and work.

Mid-morning, I walk a half-mile to a small lake ringed with garbage where beautiful birds like to wade and search for food.

The walk is loud. There are so many cars here. There aren’t enough crosswalks. Drivers are aggressive. They rev their engines and honk and flip each other off.

I remember that I am in Florida.

I curse.

I walk around the lake and watch the birds, and again, I remember I am in Florida, where the days are mostly warm and mostly sunny, and there are beautiful birds who love this garbage-filled lake that is really a pond.

I feel grateful.

I contemplate picking up the garbage near the shore, and then I think of alligators.

I walk home.

I work for a little longer.

I walk to school, or to the gym.

the lake with the garbage and the birds.

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Here’s what I know:

I will write here more, and it will be imperfect.

I will finish this revision.

I will figure out my health insurance.

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I’d love to know about what you’re working on, how you’re feeling, and what your writing life looks like right now. Tell me in the comments (which are open to everyone).

You will be hearing from me soon about new dates for writing together.

In closing, here’s a picture of my desk…note the “I can handle this” card on the wall…