Author: Dan Blank

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

Bittersweet is due tomorrow! As in, these next 24 hours are the last in which I’ll be able to make substantive changes. Yes, there will be the copyedit (thank god for copyeditors—they are the unsung heroes of the publishing process). And yes, I’ll get a last pass. But that’s to catch the minutiae; this is the last chance I have to change paragraphs, question my character’s motivations, and revisit every promise that I, the author, makes to my reader.

Put that way, it seems like a terrible idea to actually ever turn in my book!

But I’m actually excited. When I stop long enough to think about it, I realize that I’m ready to release this book into the world. Better yet, that Bittersweet is ready to meet the world.

In the meantime, I’ve been thinking a lot about revision. When I was teaching, I found it shocking how unaccustomed my students were to the reality of revision. So many of them believed that a good writer just got better at writing first drafts, so much better, that editing became unnecessary. This is pretty much exactly the opposite of how it works. The “better” you get as a writer (whatever that means), the more nuanced your understanding becomes of how vital the revision process is. The more you embrace the process, and struggle with it, and yield to it. You know the only way you’re going to get even close to that little seed of a thought you had about what the book might be before you began is by questioning its every aspect now that it’s “finished.”

That doesn’t mean that when you’re facing down revision, you don’t resist it. It usually takes a long time to yield to it, but once you do, it actually becomes, well, if not fun, then understood as necessary.

Here’s some thoughts about all the revisions I’ve done of Bittersweet:

1) In the fall of 2011, I finished the first draft, and immediately went back to it, fixing whatever was obvious, so I could send a clean copy to my agent.

2) In the spring of 2012, my agent came back to me with notes, most of which I agreed with wholeheartedly. It took me a couple of months to get the book into shape.

3) In the fall of 2012, I revisited the book again, and, based on a few external notes I’d gotten, revised again.

4) In February 2013, when my (future) editor first read the book, she had a real problem with the ending. So over a weekend, I rewrote the last fifteen pages! (Sometimes revision can mean scrapping whatever lame idea you were holding onto in the interest of listening to someone wiser than you). It felt great to show her I could turn quality work around quickly, not to mention take constructive criticism and run with it. I really welcomed the chance to show someone who I wanted to work with what I’m made of.

5) In May 2013, my editor came back to me with a substantive edit. In the meantime, I’d reread the whole book myself and had my own changes. The revision that followd was the deepest I ever went with Bittersweet. I questioned character arcs, plot points, narrative flow, plot points, sentences, words—everything I could get my hands on. I’ve found the best way to do this kind of edit is to immerse myself in the universe of the book, and so, the first three weeks of June were spent living, breathing and sleeping Bittersweet.

6) In July 2013, I’ve read the book aloud to myself, which has been incredibly helpful in hearing what hasn’t been working, on a more global level and also the level of the word and sentence. My editor has been reading it too, and has come back with very few (and mostly incredibly encouraging notes). In the meantime, I’ve re-read the book in the last few days and have caught a number of tiny things I want to tweak, mostly on the level of the sentence. I’m now combining her notes with mine to create one final draft of Bittersweet—which will be back in her hands, for good, in 24 hours!

A book never feels done. The secret is knowing you’ve worked hard enough on it that you’re allowed to let it go.

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

The other day, my son was telling me about the butterflies in his tummy. “Sometimes I get them when something bad is going to happen. But I also get them when I’m going to a party or a friend is coming over. It’s like a good/bad feeling.”

Tell me about it. “Butterflies in my tummy” is a great way to describe all aspects of the publishing process. The beginning, when you first start thinking and working on a book, the “can I do this?” butterflies. Then, when you’re writing the book, the “is this any good?” butterflies. Followed by the “will anyone buy this?” butterflies. And then the “oh no, someone bought this” butterflies. And the “I have to revise it again? and again? and again?” butterflies. Followed by the “I’m not allowed revise it any more?” butterflies. And then the “I have to do everything I can to promote this book but I have no idea how” butterflies. Not to mention “what if nobody reads this?” which is just another subspecies of “what if everyone reads this?” butterflies. And so it goes.

You know what makes those butterflies calm down? Having a buddy. Simple as that. Someone who knows you’ve got the butterflies and is able to squeeze your hand and say, “yeah, but isn’t this cool?! You’re thinking about/ writing/ revising/ publishing/ promoting your book! YOU WROTE A BOOK!”

So far, I’ve had some really good buddies. People who believed in this book when I first started scheming it, who believed it in even when it looked like it might not make it out into the world, who advocated for it and bought it and sold foreign rights, who have read it and offered thoughts, who are helping me revise (which is almost done!), who are already helping me get the word out, so that other people can read it.

Who are some of these people?

Well, Dan, for starters. I feel so lucky to have him along on this journey. During our last meeting, I balked, “I can’t believe how fun all this promotion feels,” and he laughed. “Because you have a buddy,” he said.

My beta readers. I have a number of close friends (who, in their own lives, are writers and readers) who have taken time out of their busy lives to read this book at critical stages, and then offered their generous thoughts, all in the interest of making my book better. True friends.

My editor. Just yesterday, I was feeling discouraged about this latest revision—but then I got an e-mail from her, simply saying she was thinking of me and couldn’t wait to read the next draft. That she’d been getting excited thinking about that book she was going to get to read again, and then she realized it was my book.

And you! Already, in this space, you’ve made me feel encouraged and empowered. You’ve made me realize that what I’m saying about this process is valuable and valued. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts as we continue on together.

In whatever butterfly stage you’re in, find your buddy. Spouse, friend, listserv, agent, editor—whomever they are, they will help you accomplish the impossible. They will urge you on, and share their knowledge, and shout your name from the rooftops. I feel so lucky.

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

When Dan and I last spoke, he said something that really intrigued me. We were talking about my brand, the essential part of me I want my readership to know, the part that can be consistent on Twitter and Facebook and my website, etc, eg. my new Twitter bio, “Novels about searching to belong” (shout-out to Shirley Showalter for helping me find the right words).

Strange as it may seem, I have a hard time (as I think many novelists do) finding the obvious, one-line link between myself and my work, but I think I’m getting closer. I also have a real diversity of interests, many of which have wound up in my work. It’s funny, even though I’ve lived my life, it’s hard sometimes to know how to weave that narrative into a satisfying, cohesive whole. How do I mention in the same breath that I spent three of the first six years of my life in rural Senegal with my anthropologist parents, and that I’ve been a fine arts model for two well-know photographers, Jock Sturges and Mona Kuhn? That my first novel, The Effects of Light, was based, in part, on this photographic experience, while my second novel, Set Me Free, was based, in part, on my experience on a highschool exchange program with the Crow Reservation in Montana? That the seed of Bittersweet came from the summer house my grandparents built long before I was born, and where I’ve spent every summer of my life? How do I talk about my filmmaker sister, and my writer mother, and my anthropologist father? What about my son? Or my desire to make: film, books, delicious meals, a beautiful home?

I think part of the problem is that I’ve been living under the belief that my biography should read something like this (screenshot below, though it’s hard to read):

That’s from my current website. My website hasn’t changed since 2007, even though in the interim I’ve sold a book and won a few things and my view of my own career has changed. Beyond all those substantive changes, my bio, the pictures, the colors, are all pretty bland. Not to mention that I’ve never felt much of a connection to this author photo, or to either of these book covers. So this version of me, which is what I’m presenting to the world, says a lot about what I’ve done but it doesn’t say anything significant about the true me- what I like, the experiences that have made me who I really am, what I believe. Not to mention that the bio is written in the third person; strange to think my online billboard has been keeping my readership at arm’s length, with no hints as to what really makes me tick.

So what did Dan say that really made me think twice?

“I think your website bio wants to be 3000 words long. It wants pictures and anecdotes. It wants to be funny and completely about you—all that stuff that makes you you.”

It sounds so obvious when put that way. Why wouldn’t I believe that giving potential readers a little more insight into my core self would make them invest in me? Why did I think I wasn’t allowed to share pictures or reveal what is closest to my heart? And why would I think that if I kept that “personal” stuff in hidden place, I’d still be able to present my essential self honestly?

The obvious answer is fear—the notion that if I share something truthful about myself, it could be used against me. This fear isn’t rational; I don’t have any concrete ideas of how my revelation that I love to cook could be used as a weapon of destruction. But I do think that so much of this Author Platfor process is about overcoming fear, and fear is a habit I’m doing my best to break myself of. Dan often talks about being as generous online as you are in real life; of extending yourself on the internet as much as you do in person. This can be hard to do, and hard to name.

But I think being honest about who I am is a really good start.

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

My final final FINAL draft of Bittersweet is due to Crown on August 1st. After reading my most recent revision aloud, I had a few major changes I wanted to make and lots of little nit-picky ones. I just spent the last day and a half going through the manuscript with a fine-toothed comb (why are all these lice metaphors coming up?), and just spent the better part of the day organizing an excel spreadsheet so I can make these changes methodically. This task seemed totally humorless, that is until I finally assembled all the factual assertions, big and small, that I’d like to re-authenticate before they go into a book with my name on it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the many ridiculous things I now need to research on the internet: