Author: Carrie Sue Barnes

The sight outside my window when I woke this morning put me in a momentarily pouty mood. Snow again. It’s sick. I spent the first twenty minutes of my day wondering yet again where I would rather live instead of Wisconsin. Then I got over it. This day refuses to be brought down by it’s shameful beginning. No, its goodness will prevail.

You see, today is the release day for Jars of Clay’s new album, “The Long Fall Back to Earth.” That fact alone is enough to bless me with a good week, not merely a good day. You can be sure that the first order of business on my lunch break will be driving to the nearby Christian book store to pick up that album. The second order of business will be to free it from its plastic wrapper and insert it into my car stereo. And third, to listen with great enjoyment.

So my favorite band has determined for months that I would have a good day today, on this twenty-first day of April. Yet, there’s more. I did manage to finish my editing last night. I went to sleep way too late with a happy smile on my face. There is a weight gone from my shoulders – a weight I did not mind bearing but am relieved to be free of nonetheless. Even with the transfer of the revisions from paper to computer left to do, I am rejoicing. Months ago, I laid down a rule for myself: No writing the new novel, The Mercy Hour, until the Full of Days editing is complete. Guess what! It’s complete! Idea after idea has rolled around in my head and was jotted down on a dozen different sheets of paper, but I’ve refrained thus far from converting the ideas into paragraphs or chapters. No more! I feel as if a long awaited departure date for a new adventure has arrived. It’s going to be a mighty fine adventure.

Only two chapters left to edit! I think I’ll persevere tonight and trade a little sleep for the sake of finishing. Peter Bradley Adams is one of my ideal accompaniments to writing. So I’ll keep him on and keep going.

“April lay in your hands
The sign of rain for the year
You knew the time had come at last
Your heart no longer called you here”

Even once the editing is done, it’ll take some long sessions at the laptop to type in the revisions. I work on paper, then transfer things to the computer. It’s been that way all along. Writing Full of Days happened with paper and pen. I find that my already meager supply of creativity is bottled and corked when I try to write with a keyboard instead of a pen. Knowing what does and doesn’t work for me bolsters my sense of being a real writer. Having a method, having that small measure of experience, chases away the nasty idea that I’m only fooling myself.

With the current editing I am doing on my manuscript, this is the closest I’ve ever come to reading my own book. It’s an odd thing. No pride or vanity intended, I have to admit that it’s very good. At least, parts of it are very good. Much of the time I can remain focused on looking for changes to make. I read through sentences and decide to reword them. I choose to make a better word choice here or there. I take out superfluous statements. The editing is coming along well and I am happy with the improvements. There are certain places in the story, however, where I just get sucked into reading! I read three paragraphs and have to stop myself, sheepishly realizing that I have not paid any attention to editing needs.

This endeavor of editing is proving to be an encouragement. In addition to enjoying the story in the nearest thing to a ‘reader’ state of mind as I’ve had to date, I am also learning how far I have to go. The editing reveals how much room for improvement there is in my book. True, that could be a negative thing. Except that I always knew I wasn’t the strongest of writers. I have no formal training. My college degree is not in English or Communications or any other relevant subject. School made me a good writer of research papers. It did nothing to foster my creative writing abilities. Instead, I have become a fiction writer by writing fiction. There is a marked difference in strength between the opening chapters of my first novel and the closing chapters. Also, I can’t even estimate the worth of the revisions I have done since ‘finishing’ Full of Days. I have a persistent notion that in ten years, if I read my debut novel again, I will chuckle over how many more potential changes I will see then that I cannot see now. I plan on getting better. I plan on each novel being better than the last.

All the same though, I am rather happy with my first.