by Tamara Passey
I knew the day would come that I'd need to rewrite the book I spent a year writing. I reassured myself that I'd learn how to cross that bridge when I came to it. Well, I'm on that bridge now, only it doesn't feel like a bridge. It feels like I am in the kitchen and I've started dinner - say something like BBQ chicken and mashed potatoes. And I've decided I want teriyaki chicken instead. No problem, except rice would be much better than mashed potatoes. So I marinate the chicken in teriyaki sauce and reach for the rice and its gone. Plan C develops as my toddler wanders in and begs for spaghetti. Begging is an understatement. So I use the water boiling for the potatoes from plan A to boil the pasta. I stash the chicken in the fridge for the next night's meal, steam a vegetable and whip up a tasty marinara sauce. All's well that ends well. Right? I can only hope for as much with my writing. I make one little relationship change with the main character and it is like setting off a domino train, knocking out plot lines throughout the remainder of the manuscript. I'm brushing up on my relaxation techniques. You know hyperventilating is counterproductive to most writing, rewriting --well most anything. I'd love to hear your ideas for a sane way to rewrite.