Ferpectionism

The rewrite stretches on. Just when I think I have, at last, trimmed, sharpened, modified, deepened, and adjusted every character, scene, conflict, and theme, I find... something that's out of place: a clunky description, an awkward transition, a bit of stilted or unrealistic dialog, a scene that just doesn't play. I fix them, and move on to the next part, which I thought was perfect, only to find that it, too, needs changes.

At this point, it feels as though the rewrite will take forever. Every time I read the manuscript, I find something else that displeases me. Lines that in earlier drafts made me laugh now fall flat. This is one of the hazards, of course, of writing comedy. Comedy is, by definition, surprise. In fact, the best description of humor I ever read is this: Surprise without promise or threat.

Well, nothing in this manuscript surprises me anymore, which... isn't any surprise, as I have read the manuscript dozens of times. So, I have to trust that the positive responses of my few readers--all of them intelligent, perceptive, and helpful--were genuine at the time, and know that I shouldn't mess with what amused, intrigued, or excited them. For the rest, I have to trust myself.

On the subject of rewriting, my wonderful writing teacher, the late, great, and much beloved Paul Gillette, said, "At some point, you've got to say, 'This is the quiche of the day.'" I guess that point has been reached when change would make the story different, but not necessarily better. Naturally, every significant change resonates throughout the manuscript. You give a character a different goal, and every thought, every line of dialog, is affected. In other words, there is a point, and I believe I am close to it, when the manuscript is good enough.

There is no such thing as ferpection, in other words. Mortals, and writers, can aspire to it, but only God and F. Scott Fitzgerald can attain it.