Reading your own work is painful. Reading it multiple times is akin to water torture.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not talking about revising. I’ve grown to really love the revision process. Revision is welcome because the bones of the piece are down. I don’t have to worry about “where is this going” and “what happens next.” True, these things sometimes change in revision, but the structure is there and the revision process is simply to make it better. The best revising is when you get great feedback (my agent worked miracles with her suggestions!) and can see the improvements as you’re going. It’s exciting, it’s invigorating, it’s intoxicating.
No, I’m talking about rereading when it’s a done deal. When it’s in print and ready to go, or even worse, out there for the world.
I recently received the page proofs for the essay I have coming out in Bellevue Literary Review this fall. (Page proofs are your story typeset and laid out, so you can simply check for typos.) When you see your pages, there’s an initial feeling of elation. “Look! It’s my name! In print!” And then you start reading your work. First of all, when I’m done with a piece, truly done, I disconnect from it. It represents a different time and place for me, and it’s always strange to revisit it, as if going to a high school reunion and trying to reconnect with friends from whom you were once inseparable. It’s never quite the same. Second of all, revision never ends. But page proofs are too late to be making changes, so even if you think, “Oh, it would be better if it said QRS instead of XYZ,” unless it’s an actual error, it’s too late.
The thing with submitting stories and essays is that, generally, I don’t. Many writers create pieces and send them off. I tell myself that I’ll do that, too, because that’s the best way to get published. But I don’t usually work that way. I write a piece. I leave it. I edit it. I leave it. I edit it. And at some point I forget about it. Then, if I happen to see–on a Web site, in the back of Poets and Writers, through a friend–a good fit for the piece, I’ll remember it and submit it. But because of that, I often submit things that are older. The piece that’s coming out now is an older piece, written about traveling before I was married, when kids weren’t even a tiny thought yet. So looking back is odd, trying to remember who I was at that time.
Don’t get me wrong: I still like the piece. I’m very excited it’s going to be published. And I hope you’ll read it. But now you’ll understand why I won’t.
Looking forward to reading it! Will it be available online?
If it’s just checking for typos, don’t publishers have people on staff to do that? Correctors or whatever they are called?
Angela, I’m not sure if it’ll be online or not! If it is, I’ll be sure to link to it.
Yury, the answer to your question is a post in and of itself. I’ll get to that in the next day or so.