The trouble with laundry is that it is never, ever finished. I mean, unless you do your laundry naked, there's always something that needs washing.
Dishes, at least, give you a few hours before they come back and smack you in the ass. You can actually clean all of them. And for a little while, if the kids aren't home, or if you order take-out and use paper plates and plastic utensils, they may actually stay done.
Writing short fiction is like doing the dishes. It's compact. I can get most of it in the dishwasher. The rest of it, pots and pans, the good knives, wiping down the counter and scrubbing out the sink -- that all happens in the editing. And if I've done it right, the thing gleams when I'm through. It goes out into the world all sparkly, to be accepted or rejected on its merits. I hope.
The Damn Novel is laundry. No matter how done you think you are, standing there in front of a newly emptied laundry basket in your bathrobe with no skivvies on, there's always that one shirt with the grease stain from the time when you had that particularly juicy burger and it dripped in the wrong direction and a little bit of melted cheese went along with it and even though the pretreater specifically said it would get out grease stains, do you think it did? Noooooo.
(No, no. It's all right. I'm fine. Just...breathing deeply. Right then.)
The question is always, "Have I done everything I possibly can to make this MS shine." I suppose it's a confidence issue. I could question whether it's really ready to send into the world until the moon grows devil horns. Ultimately -- assuming it really is as ready as I can make it -- I just need to suck it up and get to sending. Or querying. You know what I mean.
Laundry sucks. (The real laundry, not The Damn Novel. I love The Damn Novel with an unhealthy fervor. Okay, not that much. I'm ready to let it go. Mostly.)
Coming Friday!: A short story using the words: pleasure, flogging, hard, (no, I'm not kidding, these are the kinds of readers I have) quintessence, buttercup, persnickety, cello, calliope, and forlorn. This should be interesting.
I'm with you on the laundry. Always every week there the dirty stuff is. And if you don't wash it - nothing to wear.
ReplyDeleteI can see where it would be difficult to call the novel finished and think you'd done everything to get it ready for the world. You can do it, though.
What fun words to create a story with! Can't wait to read it.
No more procrastinating. You are rehabilitated.
ReplyDeleteQuery, damn it.
;) Pat
ya know, i just dont get why everyone hates laundry. maybe thats just because neither myself nor my hub have an extensive wardrobe, and nothing that needs folding :) anyhow, i bet your Damn Novel is ready to go kick some ass. get to kickin'! :)
ReplyDeleteLaundry sucks. Not the washing it...my machine does that, but the folding and putting away.
ReplyDeletemaybe if I threw my WiP in the washer....it would get rid of all those damn adverbs.
I think one could revise forever. Wait, that's a dangling something. I think one's novel could forever be in revision. No, that sounds a bit stilted. I think that I shall never see, a book that is revision free. Hmmm, that's oddly familiar. To change, or not to change? I don't know anymore.
ReplyDeleteIf you think it is 85% done, send it off into the world. That's what we intend to do with our children. Plus, you'll keep an editor employed.
Now I want to see a moon with devil horns. :)
ReplyDeleteI used to hate laundry. When mom was in the hospital, and I had to do laundry for my dad, I changed my mind about it. Laundry is a pillar of daily life, like meals and breathing and sleeping - a continuous cycle of renewal and an act of love. My theory is complete BS, but looking at it that way instead of thinking about it as a chore to "finish" has helped me. Corny, yes.
I HATE laundry, especially since 99% of the clothes i'm washing are not even mine.
ReplyDeleteDid you really expect any different when you asked your darling readers to offer up words? You wouldn't love us if we didn't come up with stuff like this.
@Judy, I know, right? Thanks for the encouragement (and help!).
ReplyDelete@Pat, Fine. *kicks dirt* I'll do it.
@Magoo, I think you may be onto something. Around here, we have six people and no clothes closets. Everything needs to be folded. (I'm not kidding. It's a little log cabin. No closets. Everything's in dressers.)
@Lora, Let me know if that works. I've got a few phrases that could use a good scrubbing.
@Megan, LOL I'm shooting for 100% as good as I can make it. We'll just have to wait and see if that's enough. Of course, we know your 85% is good enough because you are a Contest Finalist. Everybody, congratulate Megan!
@BFB, It's only corny if it doesn't work for you. For instance, if I said it, it would be corny. ;)
@Kris, 99%? Whose clothes are you washing? More importantly, do you want do mine while you're at it? And, yes, it's true. I should have known. I'm surprised you all restrained yourselves this much. I think I can actually do a non-dirty story with what I've got. It's possible.
Congratulations (again) Megan (I always do what Delia tells me to).
ReplyDeleteI got nuthin' here, don't mind laundry and still want to help you with yours, on both levels... speaking of which, I know we owe you some feedback. Tomorrow. Promise!
Julie
@Julie, Don't sweat it. :)
ReplyDeleteI can't wait until Friday! My buttercup is throbbing with anticipation, waiting to be plucked like a cello string!
ReplyDeleteI always call my brain "Buttercup." Man, you guys have dirty minds.
@Megan, Buttercup, eh? I'm afraid my mind always starts out in the gutter and has to work up from there. Seriously. Do you know how hard it is for me to go to Lora's blog just because of that background?
ReplyDeleteJust about lost it at the grease stained shirt part. I'm not a writer but I do hate laundry. And I think your blog is kind of kick ass.
ReplyDelete:) Thanks.
Delete