The Challenges of Being Creative on a Deadline

As most of you know, I'm in the midst of revising String Bridge for my publisher. My deadline is the end of Feb. That is a total of three months I'm going to have to revise my novel. Plenty of time you say? Yes, it is plenty of time, and I'm certainly not complaining, but have you ever tried to be creative on a time limit? It's quite a challenge. And it's been very tiring. Not as in bored/tired, but I'm going to nod off in the middle of dinner and fall face first in my bowl of chicken soup tired.

First of all, you have to know that these revisions aren't just any old revisions. These revisions are like writing a novel in its entirety within three months, with the added expectation of it being publishable. The reason for this is that my publisher wasn't happy with the state my book was in - the only thing she believed in was the story, but not the way I told it. But, she believed in me to rewrite it the way it deserved to be written. Basically, I'm using my original story line (so, let's say I have a very elaborate plot summary), maintaining most of the original dialogue (or dialogue gist), and rewriting the novel in a more literary style. So EVERYTHING is being reworded. This entails LOTS of creative juice, my friends! It's HARD. (But yes, I love it. And enjoy every moment even when I'm bawling my eyes out.)

I've had to commit to rewriting four pages a day (every day) from the beginning of Jan, to get this book done on time. That's revising approximately 1500 words of the original per day - consistently. And I'm tired. No, I'm not writing the first draft, but I tell you, I might as well be. Has anyone ever written a perfect first draft? No? I didn't think so. So I have this added stress that my new work is going to sound like a first draft. Although, logically it's not, because I already know the content. But, yes, I'm still insecure about my work. I'm STILL INSECURE and someone wants to publish me. Does the insecurity ever go away? Thankfully, I have a few wonder betas helping me through that.

Want an example of how things are changing? Here's a short one:

(And oh my God, how embarrassing. How come my writing was so bad and I didn't see it???)

Old version:
As I unlock the front door and step foot into my home, Tessa and the dog both come charging for me—Tessa with a huge grin on her face and Doggy with a massive pink tongue bouncing at the side of her mouth. It makes me feel so calm and content to be a part of such simple and pure happiness that I wish the three of us could sit on the floor in the corridor all night just hugging one another. Alex is sitting at his desk as usual looking quite sad. I walk over to him in my moment of calm and content and give him a soft kiss on the forehead, as I dream about the tour with Charlie.


New version:
I stand at our front door, sea salt burning a small cut in my nose. I hold my shirt sleeve against it, with my wrist, trying to sooth the sting — my handbag falls down around my elbow. My hair partly dry, stuck together in clumps like dreadlocks, tickles the back of my neck. Like a birthmark, the scent of ocean owns me. Smells like … freedom? — salt grains exfoliating pollution from my skin.

Tessa and Doggy come charging for me like bulls. Tessa clutches Doggy’s left ear. Doggy pants, her thick pink bouncy tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. I kneel down and hug them both at once. Warm wet drool splashes on my hand. I intend to scratch Doggy behind her ears, and stroke Tessa’s hair, but my wires get crossed and I do the reverse. I wish the three of us could sit on the floor in the corridor all night — in a cocoon of unconditional love, freedom from the world, no responsibility, no ache, simple pleasure at its best.

Alex is sitting at his desk, blank-faced. I walk over to him, unsure of what to say, whether I want to say anything at all, or even if I want to be anywhere near him. I stand by his side. Don’t utter a word. He doesn’t look up. I bend down; semi-consciously give him a peck on the forehead. I soar above images of my future on an imaginary flying carpet.

See the detail that has gone into these revisions? I'm revamping the WHOLE THING like this. Whoah. I'm sleepy just talking about it. And you know what else is a challenge? Going through all the emotions again. It's like someone saying to you now, when you're in a really good mood: Ok, act depressed - realistically depressed - convince me. Could ya do it? Perhaps you could, but it would certainly take it out of ya, right?

How are you when it comes to revisions? Do you struggle at all? If you're a published author, are you still insecure about your work? How do you deal with that?