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Hi Friends,
You would THINK that being a writer for thirty years, and being fortunate enough to have the success I have had, might make me immune to doubt.
You’d be wrong.
Last week, after working literally around the clock, I finished the manuscript for By Any Other Name — the working title of the book I’ve been telling you about in my newsletter updates, in which I hope to prove to you that a) gender discrimination is not only alive and well in theater and publishing, but that it’s been going on for over 400 years and b) Shakespeare did not write all his plays — but there’s a very good chance that a woman named Emilia Bassano was involved in penning them instead. It goes back and forth between a female playwright today, and Emilia’s life in the 1590s.
The manuscript is longer than anything I’ve ever written, and because so much of it requires historical accuracy in the Elizabethan period, I wrote it differently. Instead of writing in the order in which you read the chapters, I did all of Emilia’s chapters and then all the modern ones, and then fit them together in the right order. By the time I finished I was dizzy and drained and spouting facts about life in Elizabethan times to anyone who would listen (and many who would not). I did a second pass of editing, and then — gulp — I sent it to my editor.
My editor is lovely. Jen is the smartest editor I’ve ever worked with and I can tell you that my books are SO MUCH BETTER with her keen eye and suggestions. She has only once reduced me to tears (The Book of Two Ways, long story, and she was right in the end). But even with our years-long relationship and my admiration and trust for her — I sent it off and immediately began to freak out.
What if she hated it?
What if she told me to start over?
What if the writing that I thought was some of the best writing I’ve ever done wasn’t actually that good?
I sent the email to Jen on a Friday, and she immediately wrote back to say she had company for the weekend but would read it as fast as she could.
Let me tell you what I did while I was waiting, and doubting:
1. Cleaned out my closet
2. Swam a total of 6 miles
3. Hiked a total of 18 miles
4. Went to a farmer’s market and an art museum and a movie and a local musical to take my mind off whether or not she liked my book
5. Started rereading said book and doubted myself
6. Sent texts to my beta readers asking “When you said you liked it, were you just being nice?”
It turns out that we authors are a needy, sensitive lot. Even when we’ve been doing this forever.
Jen called me on Monday to tell me not only did she love the book, but she cannot stop thinking about Emilia Bassano, and has gone on a deep dive down rabbit holes trying to learn more about her. Since that was exactly what I was hoping readers would do, I let out the most ginormous sigh of relief and smiled and maybe, just maybe, slept well for the first time in weeks.
So mark your calendars for fall 2024, and as soon as I have more details, I’ll share them.
XO,
Jodi
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