Ripening

by Melissa Corliss DeLorenzo

Photo: technomole

I have a first draft.

(Can I say that again?)

I have a first draft.

The rough draft of the novel I started during NaNoWriMo is done. It’s exhilarating to have set a goal and met it in spite of the craziness of everyday life, my other obligations and those unexpected mishaps or happenings that emerge without fail. Right now it’s a huge temptation—almost impossible to resist—to go back to page one and begin reading through it. I am so curious to see what I have here.

But, no—it’s time to allow for ripening.

When I was earning my degrees, I set the intention of writing my papers at least a week before they were due. I even sometimes met this goal. And the papers that sat in the drawer for a little bit of time before I returned to finish them were without exception better than those I wrote the day or two before they were due.

The work needs some space. If you allow it some distance, you can establish objectivity. It’s a naturally occurring phenomenon that feels a little like magic. When you step away from a piece, whether large or small, you can see it and feel it as a whole: its shape and scope, its strengths and shortcomings. A little distance widens your focus.

It’s amazing what can happen when you return to it with fresh eyes. When I reread my manuscript from NaNoWriMo 2009, a lot of time had passed since I’d written it—probably about six months. And it was like reading something written by someone else. I hardly remembered writing some of it. I outright forgot about other parts. It was a rather surreal experience. But I was able to see the entire shape of it, which I don’t think I could have done soon after writing it. Even a little time helps, but the more the better.

So let it breathe a little.

I’m putting this novel away for a month. When I take it out, I will read it without worrying about typos or any kind of idea of perfection—I will read it to understand it’s shape. To learn the story—I am still trying to tell this story. It is still revealing itself. With a little space, I believe it can.

How do you allow space for your stories to take shape?

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