Changing Hats

You may remember in my first entry that I said that I'm all kinds of things and that they trip all over each other. You may also have just read that essays were coming in today. Today I am an English teacher. I am an English teacher who spent three days of classtime last week going over every single student outline with each student, one on one, to tell them what they needed to fix before they wrote their essays. I am also an English teacher who spent several hours today reading essays that followed the original outlines exactly, mistakes included. After all of the pulling, it is remarkable that I have any hair left.

On the plus side, I have read several solid essays. I've even read a few where students took as much time as they needed, but no more, to illustrate their points and analyze their evidence. Come to think of it, I think these essays are the reason that I do have a few strands of hair left.

Now, as a writer, let me tell you, if your editor wants something changed, you had better change it or really be able to explain why. So far, actually, my editor has asked me to change very little. It's my agent who asks for changes, and mostly, I do them. Every now and then I dig in my heels and tell her why I want to keep things as they are, and then we leave it up to the editor to decide.

That's the biggest difference, I think, between a writer and a person who writes only when they must. A serious writer knows better than to think that the first thing they churn out is brilliant, or even sufficient. A writer assumes that certain things will have to be rewritten. Alas, a writer even braces herself for the fact that some piece of lovely prose is just going to have to go because it doesn't do a darned thing for the book, really. I always have a little file on my computer for every work called "stuff I cut." It's where I put the passages that I worked so hard on and that are so poetic that I just can't let them go, even though they are basically useless. I leave them there until I'm no longer attached to them, and then I trash them. It's much less traumatic that way.

Ah, you see, I told you that different parts of me step all over each other's toes. I said I was an English teacher today, and here I go, waxing about writing!

Back to teacher mode. Hello, parents? When your child has an F on his 6 week grade report and another one on his 12 week grade report, the last two weeks of the semester are no time to call the teacher! And it's not her job to call you. What do you think those grade reports were for? And students? (ESPECIALLY high school students.) Do NOT have mommy or daddy call the teacher unless you have talked to her first. Time to start growing up. Believe me, you DO NOT want to have to go and talk to your boss at work all by yourself without practicing a little with a teacher who ultimately wants to help you. Of course, some teachers are not so helpful. If the problem is really, really bad and really, really insurmountable on your own, that's when you ask for Mom and Dad's help.

Oh goody! My daughter just came in and said that a package had been delivered. Chocolate from my agent!!! Does she know the way to my heart? Like she needs to give me chocolate. She gives me great critiques and works her butt off for me; she calms me down when I'm having bouts of hysteria or send a very stupid e mail to my editor instead of her. All this and chocolate, too. I love you, Kristin!