For father's day last year, my daughter and son (with a little help from their mommy) presented me with Paul Simon's Surprise album inside a handsome manuscript box. The album includes Paul Simon's "Father and Daughter" song, which my daughter sang to me.
The manuscript box is shaped like an oversized book of dark wood, with brass hinges and a nameplate on the front where a book title would normally reside. "It's for Tracks."
Tracks is the novel in stories I've been revising, editing and polishing -- not to mention writing about here at Gather. The gift of this manuscript box reminds me that sometimes you've got to stop tinkering and print the manuscript.
A work of fiction breathes -- expands and contracts with editing and rewriting -- and is never really complete. I've heard authors reading from their published books at lecterns, editing their own "finished" work aloud, finding better ways to express what they'd already committed to print.
For the restless artist, art never rests.
The manuscript box sits empty on my desk, near my laptop, hungry. I've shared bits and pieces of the manuscript here at Gather, at book festivals, and in various periodicals and publications. And Tracks is with a literary agent for consideration. But that hasn’t stopped me from tinkering. It's time to print Tracks and feed the box with a completed manuscript.
Are you a restless writer? Do you find yourself always looking for a better way to say? Questioning each line, every word?


Comments: 26
"A work of fiction breathes -- expands and contracts with editing and rewriting -- and is never really complete."
I have been writing for two years and I always tried to not change what I thought was complete. Yet inside I felt this pull to always rework the page. One day I listened to a Pulitzer prize poet on NPR talk about his process and he described this pull that was inside of him. The light went on and I was free. Free to breathe fresh life into my work every day.
captures the essence of writer Charles Bukowski's life and
loves.
Nice article Eric! I know that you will always treasure the wonderful gift your family has given to you! Fill it up with your precious art from this moment in time!
Evolution.
If you don't concentrate on making it perfect, you'll be surprised at how perfect your writing can be.