Accepting Your Novel, Accepting Yourself

I’m still rewriting my first novel – in notes that I take, in my head. This is three years AFTER I published A FALSE DAWN, mind you. And this is after I republished the damned book twice, with changes and additions, because I got good feedback from readers that I felt I could not ignore. This book that’s supposed to be done because it is, after all, now in paperback and available to one and all. I’m five years into writing the sequel and I’m still rewriting the first book!

Why is that? Simply put, I wish A FALSE DAWN were a better book. I wish it could be everything I wanted it to be. But it’s not. I think it’s good story, a page turner for history buffs, and well worth reading. I certainly worked hard on it. But…

I’ve decided that I cannot accept the limitations and flaws of this first novel as it is, with all its good qualities, because in some ways I still cannot accept myself as I am. I’m 70 years old. You would think I’d be at peace with myself. But that first book shows all my good qualities and my personal flaws so glaringly that I’m still taking notes on the book and figuring out how “someday” I’ll rewrite it and somehow make it perfect.

Am I crazy? In a way yes, but I’m probably not alone. I already know that the sequel, SUNRISING, will be a better written book than the first one. But that doesn’t stop me from fussing over the first book. Maybe “someday” I’ll learn to leave A FALSE DAWN alone, instead of trying to figure out how to make it perfect. That, for me, would be progress.