Two Days for a Miracle

Well, I’ve worked myself into a pickle here in Michigan with a novel revision due just as soon as I can finish it (aka now) and boatloads of work waiting in the wings. It’s a good problem to have, I suppose, but the only way through it is…through it. I’ve sequestered myself in the home and writing studio of author, mentor, and dear friend Anne-Marie Oomen. To say this place in Empire, MI is beautiful is hardly saying enough:

I have two days to get through the remaining revisions and one of those days has already passed. That day, I tackled pages 120-160. That leaves today to tackle 160-210. Thankfully, I think the latter chapters involve a lot of dialogue as the final moment of conflict comes to a head. Much of that dialogue isn’t going to change. I know this for certain. But the epilogue–right now the final 20 pages of the book–needs serious surgery. I’ve been contemplating that surgery all summer, letting the ideas steep. I’m ready to make big moves and cuts and additions as needed, but there really are only so many hours in the day. More to the point, I only have so many ounces of concentration left in my brain before it fries. It’s been a long, albeit very enriching summer. Sprinkle in a bit of emotional b.s. I could have done without, a handful (ok, a lot) of public events, and I’m about toast.

Toast never has been and never will be a recipe for revision, but I’m going to give it my best. For one more day. Then I’m touring bourbon distilleries in Louisville (the place to do it) with an artist friend and rocking out to my iPod mix for 900 southbound miles. Gus and the Airstream await. My hiking boots await. And all the beautiful mess of the world spins and spins and spins.