Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Writing of Loon: A Marine Story - Part 3



This is the third in a series of five reposts


The long flight home from my daughter's wedding in Thailand had me warmly reflecting and eagerly anticipating all at once. It was a magnificent jumble of feelings. Hours after the plane landed, I placed the Loon manuscript in the mail to my new editor in Indiana and begin a vigil by the mail slot of my Georgetown home - so eager was I for any criticism that would make me a better writer and Loon a better book.

The first third of the manuscript returned a month later. It was peppered with pencil marks, littered with arrows going from here to there, and filled with editorial and grammatical commentary. It was like the return of a so-so term paper...on steroids. I soaked up every mark and executed her every suggestion. It was incredible. She was in my head as surely as if she were a protagonist in the filmBeing John Malkovich.

We plowed forward for months and months - all by mail. She'd have an idea - I'd think it was terrific. I'd come up with something and she'd know exactly where it belonged. It was just about the most fun I'd ever had. It was an extremely satisfying process.

Meanwhile, I had gotten another job and, although determined to make this one work, my heart and soul remained in Loon. Despite honest effort, I was again shown the door a year later.

That summer, as my second daughter was being married, my editor and I knew that we were close to a finished product. She would send new comments every couple of months for my review. I'd throw them in my car and head to the Outer Banks where a Vietnam buddy had given me the use of his beach house in which to write. Many stories emerged from this editing period that taught me much about myself both as a person and as a writer.

Midway through my tour in Vietnam, for example, I was given 5 days of R&R in Singapore. I wrote detailed pages about the days leading up to it and the first several hours. I then skipped ahead three days to write about a newspaper story I'd seen. I then skipped to the flight back to Vietnam. The comment that came back from Indiana about this chapter?

"Your public AND your editor want to know exactly what happened during those first three days!"

Ouch. Why go there? Doesn't the reader have an imagination?

But, as usual, she was right. I sat down and wrote about the first three days in detail and soon found myself laughing out loud at my memories. Her suggestion ignited some of my very best writing.

Among the casualties of the editing process were my letters home. On the first pass, some were removed and others severely edited. As time went on, however, most disappeared and were replaced by prose. Although the letters were excellent source documents, my editor was clear that the reader would want more of my current writing. The manuscript that began with over 100 letters, now had but four, with three written by others.

By the end of 2007, we agreed that the manuscript was ready again for my agent. I took it to New York in January. The change from that which she had first seen exactly two years prior was palpable. She thought that there might now be a market, although Vietnam remained far off the national literary radar screen.
For the first time, Loon was out of my hands and into the marketplace. All involved agreed that it was a good story. All involved also agreed that it was very well written. It was now up to the market.

I had no job, was living full time above a friend's garage on the Outer Banks, but was at peace with both my accomplishment and my life.

Happiness is...


Having Sarah, Margaret, and John miss their Hong Kong connection from Maine and, thereby, be stranded here in 5B for a day!

Wonderful!

Here is a paparazzi shot of the happy trio returning from the requisite early morning visit to Gordberg's Bagels, caught walking across the Walgreens parking lot.