I spent today going through the 8.5 x 11, 10 ream box in my closet and throwing away old drafts of my novel, Moonshine Murder. To save trees, I would print double-sided, and would edit on the computer when I could. My total? Well, honestly there are too many to count accurately since I would often use the same print-out for several drafts, using different color ink to track changes.
Let's just say that I've taken quite the trip through those drafts.
Tossing that incredibly heavy pile was like letting go of a chunk, a big chunk of my life. Some drafts had artwork in bright red and green crayon left by my little helper. I kept those pages, and taped them to my wall with his other artwork. Others were covered in a different kind of red, the formidable red ink of a marked-up page. I kept a couple of those too, to remind me how far I've come.
But it was worth it. All those drafts. Moonshine Murder finally has a home! I'm now entering into a whole new phase of my writing career, and probably a whole new stack of drafts.
And the rejection letters? I'm keeping those as a road map of my journey--some wrong turns, some right.
