Sean Musial, Editor

The vernacular that one must learn and understand as they start the daunting task of writing their first novel requires persistence, patience and perseverance. Most importantly, it entails taking the ups and downs of the process on the chin, and keeping the ball rolling until that final draft is in your hands. It’s hard. I am by no means a published author, but I learned quickly the weight I chose to carry while writing manuscripts; it is a workout, both mentally and physically.

After spending weeks or months devoted to writing a first draft, your initial instinct is that it’ll be your final project, especially when you’ve never done something like this before. 

That’s far from the case. 

You yourself still need to edit and change the glaring flaws that will help the narrative flow better. The first draft is usually labeled your “puke draft”  because you let all of those creative juices flow out of you, unfiltered. 

Micheal Lee, a children’s and historical fiction author, once said, “The first draft reveals the art; revision reveals the artist.” I read that a while ago and didn’t yet understand the full meaning.

I began to understand when I got into editing. Stephen King, a critically acclaimed best-selling author, waits about six weeks to go back to a finished manuscript so he can have a new perspective on it. Being brutally honest about the quality of a narrative structure is not a bad thing; if anything, it’s the best thing you can do. I decided to do the same thing that King does with his manuscripts because it gave, and is still giving me, a chance to look at it with fresh eyes. 

It’s a clear punch in the face when I’m told I’m not writing The Great Gatsby as my first novel, but maybe there is potential after multiple drafts. Writing is a continuous journey towards not necessarily perfection, but an acceptance towards the project you hold in your hand that has been months, years even, in the making. It’s difficult fighting the frustration of wanting your project finished while also letting it marinate so nothing is rushed and poorly written. 

It often feels, for me at least, that I’m walking across a tight rope with a balancing beam—one side of the beam being college and the other side being my writing ventures. The challenge lies in trying to balance your college studies while continuing to study writing books/screenplays and writing your own work. 

It’s hard, but what isn’t? 

I yearn for it. A couple hours a day devoted to this self-proclaimed, lifelong mission that asks to crawl its way through my fingertips and tap feverishly at a keyboard. 

But, the draining sets in. It’s a brain workout trying to coherently express the stories and abstract thoughts I want my reader to eventually have the grace of reading–at least the game plan, the overall goal, or the self-expression I hope to accomplish. That’s where the imposter syndrome sets in and starts to scratch at you. “There’s no way in hell someone like you can do something like this,” you start to say to yourself. But negative self-talk isn’t bad as long as it shows you care about what you’re doing; if anything, it just adds fuel to the fire. The moment behind the goal is when it becomes a less desirable tool in an arsenal of writing abilities. 

Sleep becomes difficult for me. Three pages turns into six as you still try to edit six pages of a finished manuscript. You set a goal that you try to finish by 10 p.m., but it bleeds over to 4 a.m. because you get hurtled into the creative and revision processes. On top of that, you have to rewind so your brain calms down to eventually fall asleep, and then get up to shower at 9:30 a.m.. On top of that, you go to the gym and then work three times a week when jobs start flying in. And then the college assignments. Don’t forget time for family and friends. A lot to do on a weekly basis, but I manage…mostly. That’s what I chose. A mental beatdown towards a goal that I can nearly reach out and grab. Putting one foot on each side of the line is already giving yourself a backup. Having yourself walk along one side of the line that you wholeheartedly know is your endgame, trusting in the cards you were dealt, and going all in. The pursuit of being that eventually can be a “mental beatdown” at times, but it’s also fulfilling. When you write a perfect line, when a character in your story is doing something different, when the story does a complete 180 from your initial plot and still works–that’s when it’s rewarding. It’s the little and grand things that outshine the need to fight through the work. It’s a personal challenge and a gift all wrapped in your work and imagination.