Writing fiction, or "How to not take the bread out of the oven too soon."

I am an optimist, and being an optimist can take a person far from their home. This is the danger and the beauty of optimism. For an optimist, the glass is not only always half full, but the oven often has too many loaves of bread baking in it. Thus, when I put my things in storage in Oregon and flew to Atlanta, I was living the dream of every optimist: I believed that good things do come to those that wait, and that sooner is better in the waiting game. But this is not true of works of fiction. With fiction, for me at least, I have learned to not take the bread out of the oven too soon.

There is nothing that says "home" as bread that is homemade, taken hot from the oven to cool on a wire rack. Nothing reminds me of my mother, whose name was Agnes, than freshly sliced, tender, warm bread. Its scent fills a kitchen with love. When I think of a slab of butter and homemade jam spread on a slice of homemade bread, it is like imagining Heaven.

A well written manuscript, to me, is like that bread: golden brown and savory. But if it is taken from the oven too early or overcooked, it can be ruined. This is why I remind myself to think things through when it comes to writing. Make every sentence count.

The reality is that the wheels of the publishing world turn very slowly. Let me give you a perfect example from my own life. Besides relocating temporarily in Atlanta to sell a reality show I'd created, filmed, and edited late last year, I came with the idea of selling at least one of my novels or screenplays. These literary works had been my pet projects for years. And when one was rejected, I sent off another one off.  Optimists, if they are anything, are persistent.

Among my literary works there were several young adult novels. One in particular had a good beginning. I was fairly certain how it would end. Normally when an author submits a work of fiction to an agent or publisher, the manuscript is finished. Editors, in particular, don't like being led to believe that the work they have grown fond of, based on having read a couple of chapters, and a tantalizing query letter, is incomplete. I agreed with them, but apparently I am not always consistent in this credo.

Thus, when I received an email from an editor a month ago, from an editor at a publisher in Atlanta, I panicked momentarily. She wrote that my three chapter sample and summary had occupied corners of editor's offices for a year and a half. She said she loved it, and wanted to read the rest of the manuscript.

But the novel was only half completed. I stalled her and said I would get back to her after the weekend. The manuscript she'd read was only seventy pages in length. I knew the story though, and had a rough outline, and also there was another thing, and this is the important part: the novel had been gestating in my mind for a least a year. Like a perfect loaf of bread, it is best to keep the oven door shut until it is done baking.

The final manuscript ended up being 150 pages in length, (45,000 words). I completed it in four days, which is my personal best. It had a few minor typos, but the editor was thrilled to get it. She said I shouldn't worry about a few typos because without them she wouldn't have a job. And, the really fun thing about having written so much so quickly is that it was fresh and there were surprises along the way. It had a stronger plot and ending; the writing was fun and entertaining.

While the editor (and her readers) are reading my novel, I have reworked inconsistencies, corrected typos, and rewrote one chapter. It is ready to be taken from the oven, like a fresh baked loaf of bread. Whether that publishing company will buy it or not is another thing. I think it's great, but then, I am an optimist.

I am leaving Atlanta, and returning to the Northwest. I have learned a good lesson about life by this trip, which Dorothy was wise to remember. There are fresh loaves to bake back home, because no matter where I roam, "there is no place like home."