Writing An Uncertain Peace: The Long and Winding Road

By the end of my post, “How Do You Get To Chicago?”, I had a manuscript of 125,000+ words lying in a computer file. Visions of agents pounding on my door and publishers desperately outbidding each other for the book rights danced in my head. Then, like a car crash, reality smashed into my life.

I used my time to edit the manuscript. Gently. Far too gently. I was using sandpaper when I should have been using a chainsaw.

My wife and I moved from Atlanta to Tennessee and built a house. For a year, I worked alongside the builders doing exterior stone work, tile work, and interior painting. When that was done, I found myself struggling to find employment in an area where opportunities were scarce. While job searching, I edited the manuscript. Far too gently. I was using sandpaper when I should have been using a chainsaw. I finished that edit, and just when I thought I might be staring at a lifetime of unemployment, a job dropped into my life. The job, along with raising children and the swirl of family life, kept me busy for the next 10 years. Along the way, I became active in the arts scene in Chattanooga, and even after retiring, I still did not work on the novel. Instead, I was writing and publishing about the Chattanooga art world, conducting interviews with artists, and reviewing museum shows. When, at my wife’s urging, I returned to An Uncertain Peace, I was stunned. I saw its flaws sprawling out before me. Unnecessary complications, pointless minor characters, and intrusive historical explanations were at the head of a long list of failings. It was as if, in trying to write a compelling novel, I’d instead written an example of how not to do it. The sandpaper was forgotten, and at long last the chainsaw roared into life.

Working with my sister-in-law, Jan, as a sounding board, I cut the manuscript down to around 95,000 words. Scenes that formerly took four or five pages were reduced to two or three tight paragraphs. Well-written but nonessential sections were cut. Dialogue was tightened up. When we finished, a quarter of the manuscript was gone. I put the edited manuscript away for two years. When I did what I thought was the final edit, the last that Jan would work on with me, An Uncertain Peace reached 89,000 words.

My thoughts now turned to publication. At the time I finished the initial manuscript, I was still young enough to think in terms of agents and traditional publishing. Now, with the passage of time, I could hardly present myself as a long-term asset. Some sort of hybrid publishing or self-publishing seemed the logical way forward. I would need to hire a professional editor.

The writing world is filled with people and organizations anxious to help the would-be author with any part of the writing process — for a price. There are good ones, of course, but many just want a payday, and some are outright crooks. How can one tell the difference? The only thing necessary to become an agent or an editor is to publicly declare yourself to be one. How does one choose? And, professional qualifications aside, there is the question of compatibility. Editing can be a frustrating process. In my years in the art world, I had been through many critiques. One wants honesty but not brutality, but most of all, one must avoid the poison of unwarranted praise. (see Criticize Me–Please!). Even well-meaning authors and talented editors can find polishing a manuscript trying.

Once again, luck smiled on me. I had become friends with a woman who was the co-founder of The Porch writers’ collective in Nashville. I appealed to her for suggestions. She asked me to send her three short samples (approx 10 pages) of text from the beginning, middle, and end of the manuscript. I did. She wrote back to say she liked what she saw and had an editor in mind, Jennifer Chesak. The downside was that Jennifer was herself a writer, taught at Belmont University, and was out doing book events. If I could live with a delay, I should send her the samples and an email introducing myself.

I decided to work with Jennifer, and I never regretted that decision. We navigated the editing minefield and became friends. Her flexibility and generosity were remarkable. But that is a story for my next post.