Revisions on Novel #3

[scififanatic]

7,021 / 58,566 (12.0%)

I started revising my most recent novel last month. I'm pleased with the progress so far. It took learning some painful lessons in 2008 to find a positive place for my writing and my process.

For a time, I fell out of love with my writing because I lost direction and I also underwent some personal problems. People probably get sick of hearing me talk about Tori Amos but hey--she is my muse (along with Octavia, of course). Tori doesn't care about what people say about her outlook, her fashion, her music. This is why I love her so much. She dares. She doesn't dare to be different--she dares to be herself, flaws and all.



In her authorized biography, Tori Amos: All These Years, she talks about teachers who criticized her phrasing and playing in classical music school. (I too studied in an academy for many years.) She wasn't playing the music "right" because she preferred to play it her way.

As brilliant as she was, the teachers and administration kicked her out of the school at age 10 but she never stopped playing her way. Later, while living in Los Angeles, she was raped at gunpoint and she turned this pain into a purpose by starting RAINN and unleashing her experience through her music.

When I think of Tori, I think of Maya Angelou, who was also abused and refused to be silenced:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


I draw on the strength of these women, of so many great women who've gone on before me; we're walking a similar path. My pain is theirs as theirs is mine. If they can overcome all obstacles, then so can I.

I've decided that for every 10% I revise in my novel, I will mark my progress with something positive. I've been eying this stainless steel necklace for a while and finally, it's on sale for $10!