Image use purchased from Adobe Stock.
Writer or reader, which am I?
The first story in my collection was by far the hardest to write and I did not feel okay about moving on to another story until it was at least partially in place. In my mind, “Secret Workings” set the tone and subject for everything that came after. If it didn’t work, the whole collection was in jeopardy.
But here’s the twist. Before starting to revise the collection, I was content with how “Secret Workings” had been written. It was published in Phoebe magazine, had even been edited by a group of students at George Mason University. The magazine gives students interested in a career in writing or publishing hands-on learning experience. What a gift to receive the wealth of their feedback.
I’d been proud when the magazine arrived at my door with “Secret Workings” included. The problem, I see now, was that I was approaching the story as a writer. I was not thinking like a reader.
See you on the flip side
As a writer, I enjoyed the language, and thought I’d managed to tell an unpalatable story in a way that people could swallow. Honestly, when I started sending out a story that reveals the bodily realities of perimenopause in graphic detail, I was pretty certain nobody would print it. Imagine my shock when a young male editor contacted me to say he loved the story. This gave me a false sense of accomplishment. Isn’t creative writing filled with those? I think so.
It’s what happened next that matters. And fortunately, as I have slowly come to comprehend, the flip side of a false sense of accomplishment is an opportunity for growth. When I stopped looking at the story as a writer and tried to imagine experiencing it as a reader, I could see that I had not done my job.
When I looked at it as a reader, I could see it was a story about a story, instead of the real thing. While it was a bit of an accomplishment to have it appreciated in that form, how much more might it mean if I could find a way to make it a story full stop?
Sharing an experience
What if instead of reading about a story, some people might experience the story? Holy wow and yes please. That’s why I wrote this book. So, I made that my goal and it was formidable.
Working on that story began to feel like experiencing an illness. It would not leave me alone. It weakened me. It was almost like a fever, or a possession by a troubled soul with problems bigger than I could solve. Even during sleep, I was writing scenes… crappy scenes, at least until I figured out what the story really was.
In my previous blog, I told you about my discovery of mauve foolscap. By the time I went to the stationery store and bought that stuff, I’d been revising “Secret Workings” for three weeks and it was nowhere near done. I had twenty weeks total for all ten stories, so this was not good. Not good at all.
Feminist rage to the rescue
For a couple of days, I tried to convince myself that I could cut the story or move it to a different place in the collection. And then, I rebelled against my own self-doubt and despair. I care about what I’m trying to do in this collection. It sincerely pisses me off that menopause is billed as an ending when it is not. Menopause is a beginning. And isn’t it time people stopped trying to own the female body, for crying out loud? How about we stop trying to tell women what their body is for?
The strength of that feminist rage kept me going. I sat down and refused to write one more word in the story until I had a definite plan. It took me two days. In order to build that plan, I had to let go of the deep conviction that I’d already done everything I could. I had to pull away a little, distance myself, and sit there in silence. A lot of silence, the uncomfortable kind.
In the next blog, I’ll tell you about beginning again, only this time with a plan. What happened surprised me. Maybe it will surprise you too.
“Your Body Was Made for This” will be published by Ronsdale Press in October. (Available now for pre-order online or at bookstores.)
Debbie Bateman 