My older son is a musician and college student in Denver. I’d call him “struggling,” but 1) that would be a cliché, and 2) how bad can it be when you’re twenty-one with no major responsibilities except to feed yourself, get to rehearsal/performances on time and, oh yes, pass your classes? Plus, his bands are “on the way up,” as they say. They’re going places. Literally. He just got back from a multi-state tour with one of his groups. They played in Utah, California, Washington, Oregon and Montana— all new venues swarming with adoring fans, with roadies rushing to meet the band’s every need, traveling in style and comfort all the way.
Okay, well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. On this tour there was no luxury Winnebago, no entourage providing genuine Antarctic glacial water and organic pomegranate seeds flown in from Nepal (they make the best martinis, didn’t you know?). We’re talking one van with lousy gas mileage, lots of friends’ couches, and repeated fast food drive-thrus. “Gourmet” meant grilled instead of fried.
While my son was gone I caught up with him by phone and asked how it was going. Was he getting along with his bandmates? No problem there. How were the performances? He loved those, as usual. And in typical Mom fashion, I added, “So, are you getting any homework done on the road?” “Yes!” he said. “It’s so boring that I’d actually rather do homework than just sit here.”
Hmm, I thought. That’s a lot like editing. I’m in the midst of cleaning up my first novel, “The Art of Love,” and candidly, it’s a slog. I had a blast creating the characters and the situations they find themselves in, then figuring out how to get them out of it. And I’m not kidding: writing the first draft during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) was almost euphoric, as I imagine performing well on stage must be.
But now I’m doing the real work of writing, the necessary steps (like riding a bus and doing homework) that will take a good performance to the next level. It’s not glam at all. It’s the “you need a better word” phase, the “that timeline doesn’t make sense” phase, the “sorry—this scene is great but has to go” phase.
I see the proverbial end of the tunnel now and it feels good. Much like getting your chops down, playing a bigger venue and knowing you nailed your performance better than you ever thought possible. Dare I say it? Editing is a bitch, but the result is sheer music
