I've now gotten corrections from all three people I sent my manuscript to--all amazing writers and editors in their own right. (Thanks Corinna, Sarah and Tammy!) But now this means I have to make all those corrections, and that's not an easy thing. In fact, I had been putting it off for awhile until I had a bit of a mental breakdown two nights ago. I couldn't stop thinking I was a wannabe poser who would never actually send my manuscript to agents or publishers or grant-givers.

Then my friend Sheri gave me a pep-talk and sent me to a couple of websites to help me snap out of my funk. (She’s such a great mom, and she’s not even old enough to be my mom!) Basically, she told me to get over myself and get to work, only she’s much nicer than me, so she said it in a much kinder way.

So last night I got back to work. I opened all three corrected files and went through them chapter by chapter, making corrections on my own draft and notes about where I need to fill out the story and where I can cut back. I’m about half-way finished, have two additional chapters to write and a month and a half to get it all done. Luckily I only have to submit my first two chapters to the SCBWI WIP grant committee, meaning I can work on the rest as I go.

Next month marks the first anniversary of the day I began writing this novel. It’s been a long process and a crazy year, but I have faith this is going to work.

I just heard that John Updike died today of lung cancer.

My first exposure to John Updike came in a literature class my junior year of high school. While I’m sure I had heard of him before, I had never really paid any attention. We read “A&P” and I fell in love. I had never had a short story effect me so strongly. At the time, I had to best friends—on short and commanding, the other tall and graceful. I knew just what those girls were trying to do in that convenience store that day, and I knew the kind of power they held over that young cashier. In just 20 pages, I understood adolescence more completely than I had at another other time in my 16-year life.

I went on to read every other Updike short story and novel I could get my hands on that year. I was amazed by the transient quality of the characters in Brazil, I loved to hate Henry Bech, and I connected to the people that survived the wars of the past in a way that no history book or lesson had ever taught me. And for the first time, I could see why a movie version of a novel paled so greatly in comparison to the words of a writer when I read/watched The Witches of Eastwick.

I continued to love John Updike as I got to know of the man. The longevity and timelessness of his work amazed me. I couldn’t believe that his career spanned generations, and he continued to publish works and write even after falling ill. His newest collection of short stories—My Father’s Tears and Other Stories—is set for publication June 2 of this year by Knopf Press. But he was also a husband, father and artist.

Though I have moved on from my teenage obsession with Updike (let’s be honest, a lot of that obsession stemmed from the fact that he wrote about love and sex and war—all subjects that every teen wants to learn more about but are often considered too “adult” for that age group), but he will always hold a special place in my heart for the great influence he had on my literary development. We have lost a great writer today, and for that, I am deeply saddened.

After finishing my manuscript, I sent it out to a few close friends who are fantastic editors. I have gotten a lot of their edits and comments back now, which means I start on my second draft of my novel.

I already know that I am going to have to make some major changes to the novel—like the fact that the two main characters don't interact enough, and I need to get ride of some of the colloquialisms I use in dialogue. These are big projects, and they make me nervous.

I’m also applying for the SCBWI Work In-Progress Grant next month. I’ll be submitting the first two chapters of my bayou book. If I get the grant, I want to use it towards a trip down to Louisiana to do some research. No matter how wonderful local libraries, the internet, the Library of Congress Archives and phone interviews are, they can’t beat talking to people face to face and getting dirty with the local historical societies. Wish me luck!

It feels as though I have been working on this novel forever, but it hasn't even been a year since I sat down and first met Bea and the other people on the bayou. Sometimes I don't know if this book is really mine anymore. So many people have had a hand in creating it that I feel like it is a community project.

Within the next month, my bayou book won't be my primary project anymore. I've been working on another novel about the Reconstruction Era in Louisiana, but I realized that isn't working out like it should. I think I'm going to have to scrap what I have and start over—the setting and characters will generally stay the same, but the plot is going to be vastly different. I can't believe I am now committing to scrap almost 200 pages worth of writing. C'est la vive! (At least for a writer.)

I will also have a new writers' group beginning this month who will be my guinea pigs for this project. They will be a part of this new novel basically from start to finish, and I hope they’re up for the challenge. I’m also working on a few other books that take place in Chicago after WWII, Idaho during the Korean War and Bea’s next book. There are so many ideas floating around in my head that I can’t wait to get on paper.

I guess that means I should stop blogging and get to work!