Madly Writing and Rewriting

I have been up at our church for the past two weeks, working during the day and writing my next book in the evening. The story has been flowing along nicely, and I like the characterization so far of my heroine, Etta Purcell (who is 87, by the way. Why should the young have all the fun?).

In the midst of this flow, however, I got an email from my publisher asking for rewrites of the manuscript they're currently considering, and they gave pages of requests for improvements. That's all well and good, and I've never had a problem with doing rewrites. The books always turn out better when I follow the editor's suggestions. Except it means now I have to drop my feisty old lady abruptly and leave her hanging while I return to the soft-spoken monk and the murder in my other manuscript. The about-face is jarring, and it will take me a day or so to get into the flow again with that other story. 

When I'm writing, I tend to forget my characters and plot as soon as they're in the editor's hands, because I'm now immersed in the next thing. Going back to previous stories is always like showing up smartly to tennis lessons with my sneakers and racquet, all primed to go, only to find we're going swimming instead.

I have arranged to stay on another week at the church, where my evenings are interrupted by nothing more demanding than letting the dog out. Isolation gives me the chance to focus, to deep-dive, surfacing only occasionally to stumble into the kitchen for a handful of crackers. I can ignore the outside world and housekeeping and laundry and (let's admit it) all but the most basic hygiene and become swallowed up completely in my work. I can talk aloud, pace, gesticulate, and act out scenes to hear how they sound, without disturbing anyone or being self-conscious. Or like this morning, when my brain wouldn't shut off, I could get up at 2:30 and write without bothering the rest of the household. (I'll be in a stupor by 3:00 this afternoon.)

Hopefully something good will come of all this. Hopefully the publisher will accept the manuscript. But if not, I still have my old lady, waiting impatiently in the wings.