Imagine you have a dress pattern, cloth, thread--basically all the things one needs to make a dress, including a sewing machine. You've never sewn more than the occasional button. The instructions that came with the pattern are a little confusing, but how hard can it be, right? So you sit down and muddle through, and you end up with ... something.
It's kind of cute, but not exactly what you expected. A lot of people love your dress. A few tell you it's pretty good. A handful tell you it's pretty awful.
You put the dress on time and time again, and you stare at it in the mirror, trying to figure out what the problem is. But you can't quite put your finger on it.
Then one day, somebody sits you down and says, "Let me explain to you how you could've made that dress so much better." You listen, you learn, and you go on to make other dresses with your new knowledge. Better dresses.
Suddenly, you have an opportunity to show that first dress to someone who could help you, say, get a designer contract or something like that. So you know you need to go back, take that dress apart, and remake it. Sounds easy enough, right?
Not so much.
That's where I find myself right now with my novel, Not His Type. By far my most popular novel, it represents a lot in a lot of ways. I have an opportunity to have an agent look at it, which is amazing. However, that means reworking, re-editing, taking it apart, and putting it back together as a better book.
So while I'm working on my next novel, which doesn't even have a name yet, and my annual Christmas short story (which is also unnamed), I'm working on a book I absolutely love, but realize needs work. A lot of work.
And that's my first blog here. Make of it what you will. If you pray, do that. I could use them. 😊
