“The last forty pages are the best part of the book”
“The last third of the book should be cut. The best part of your story is your fiancé’s death. Not sure why the rest is there.”
“There is too much about how you feel. It’s too interior. We need more scenes.”
“There is not enough feeling. You tell us what happened, but how did you feel as it was happening?”
When I finished the fourth revision of my memoir, Good Enough?, last August, I sent it out to 15 people I know — thoughtful writers and readers, great friends — people whose feedback I hoped would guide me forward.
Lots of useful feedback came in. But much of it was contradictory. And I had no idea what to do.
This confusion was disorienting and paralyzing — I’m usually a person who knows exactly how to edit. I worked in communications for more than 25 years! Sixteen people fighting about what the CEO should say in her speech? No problem. I knew exactly who to listen to and who to ignore. But this? Add more feeling? Take the feelings out? I had no idea.
Without the exoskeleton of my professional expertise I felt wobbly — like I was standing on pudding. The ground underneath me was wiggly, squishy and unpredictable. I didn’t know the rules. I had never written a book before! I’d never written anything…
