Reworking a sweater and reknitting a scene

Just a quick blog about what I've been up to lately. The *really* quick version is, too much Goodwill-diving! I've developed a thing for running up to my new Goodwill store and bringing back "orphans." This is sometimes good and sometimes not. I recently found a wonderful vintage sweater, all furry with mohair, and so cute, with its little rows of bobbles up the front plackets. It had some slipped stitches that I figured I could easily pull back up with a crochet hook. I'm pretty good at fixing things like that. Unfortunately, once I got it fixed, I realized one sleeve was really threadbare. What a shame.

I just couldn't give up right away. I kept that sweater lying around in a basket while I contemplated how to fix it. I was thinking maybe if I took the sleeves out, I could somehow re-knit them with the good yarn and eliminate the threadbare part. But that would probably mean short sleeves. What good is a short-sleeved winter cardigan?

Still, I started taking out the sleeves. But see, you can't really do it just like that. Sweaters are assembled in parts that interlock like a jigsaw puzzle. Once I began taking the sleeve seams out, it messed up the collar and the front a little. Soon I'd *really* created a lot of work for myself.

I gave up. I threw it in the trash atop some gooey stuff, so I wouldn't be tempted to take it back out. I knew I had enough projects around here without having to worry over that pesky one. I would list them, but let's just list the really important one: finishing the manuscript I'm working on! The others are mostly needlework, which takes a back seat to writing.

I don't know what it is that makes me want to fix things like that sweater instead of going out and buying one, but I think the fix-the-orphan urge helps me a lot with my writing. It allows me to rewrite and rewrite until I get things straight. You can pull the stitches out of a sweater, or toss out the batter and start the cake over, or you can hit the delete button on a scene.

Maybe what drives me is the need to get things right. "Do your best," we're told. Maybe that's what it is.

Sometimes, just as you end up ripping out part of the neck edging as you try to rework that sleeve, changing a few paragraphs will change the direction of the written scene to such an extent that you're actually rewriting the whole scene. Or maybe the whole chapter. But that's a good thing, right? In my experience, it's a rare revision that isn't a *better* revision.

When would I toss out a whole chapter? Ha! Usually if it's the FIRST chapter, which always gives me a run for my money. Sometimes that thing gets morphed two or three times into something entirely different than what I first dreamed it would be like. But what's the most important chapter in a book? The first one, I do believe.

Lately, as I've worked on revisions on this partial that were recommended by a Harlequin editor, I keep reading other Superromances and trying to see what they're doing right. I think I need to cut out some of my hero/heroine's yammering about other people, places and situations, and cut to the meat: the romance. For some reason (my mainstream storytelling nature?) I like to layer and layer the story. And really, what is the reader picking the book up for? The *love story,* Melissa. The love story.

Sooo....back to cutting out what the grass looks like, and how the house needs paint! <>

Mel: "But, that was a *great* descriptive passage!"

Critique partner Jen: "Mel, what does the *reader* want?"

Thanks for getting me back on track, Jen!