The terror and thrill of my first edit letter

On whether pressure is a privilege, getting edits back on the first day of a new job, and tackling revisions when I'm the busiest I've ever been

I recommend consuming your first edit letter with pasta and wine al fresco. Lowkey nostalgic for three weeks ago when I had time to breathe, eat pasta, and read my letter…

About a month ago, I got my first edit letter from my lovely editor. I got that edit letter on the first day of my new job.

Luckily, the first week of the new job was fairly relaxed. That week, I had the time to sit on a patio, drink a glass of wine, and ruminate over my edits.

I needed to ruminate. I was surprised to find that the edit letter is literally just a letter—albeit thirteen pages of brilliant, dense thoughts about my novel. There were some suggestions. But mostly so, so many (great) questions, and not an easy answer in sight.

I’d never encountered a letter like that in my life. As I read the edit letter, I realized very quickly that this process was going to take some deep thought. About the characters, and about plot, and about the actual writing itself. Transforming this thirteen-page letter into an actual plan of attack would require me to develop a whole new approach to the work.

There was—and is—something thrilling and exciting about all that. When was the last time I faced a challenge that felt totally brand-new? Maybe my first semester of law school, which felt like I’d been dropped from space onto an alien planet and had to learn to read and study all over again. Or starting to lift weights, and realizing that I had all these tiny muscles that I had no idea how to activate. Terrifying and energizing at the same time.

I once heard Marie-Helene Bertino say, “Revision is letting time into the room.” This will take time, I told myself. Just like how, one day during my second year of law school, I deftly answered a cold call and realized, Holy shit, I’m good at this. Or the first time I packed my shoulders properly for the barbell and became suddenly aware of those tiny muscles I’d long ignored. These revisions will take time, I told myself. Step by step.

Transforming this thirteen-page edit letter into an actual plan of attack would require me to develop a whole new approach to the work.

Then I woke up and I was suddenly the busiest I’d ever been. My new job kicked into high-gear, and I was suddenly in charge of a very fast-moving civil-rights lawsuit. Other life admin tasks exploded, like planning a wedding. My fiancé’s corporate job got intense and I had to make dinner. (I know all you people with kids are like, She has no idea. What can I say, I definitely don’t, so you should just read

Andrew Boryga

’s lovely post on balancing kids and writing.) It added up. Day after day, I dragged myself to bed having hardly thought about my revisions, much less thought deeply.

I also felt a new pressure. For the first time in my writing life, I have a deadline. I said it wouldn’t happen to me, but a deadline changes your relationship to the work. There’s a reason that mystery and thriller writers love to slap a clock on the plot. It sure does create some tension! I watched three weeks pass and I thought, My revisions are going nowhere, because I’m not spending any time on it.

I thought, I am going to have to change some things if I want to get this done.

I thought, I am going to have to be really intentional about every minute of my day if I’m going to make this happen.

Text with my lovely writer friend who works in Big Law. So she has it harder than me, I won’t lie.

So for the past week, I have been trying my best. I feel like I’m speed-running my whole day, just sprinting from one thing to the next. But I am also trying to be really, really present with each task. When I’m at my job, I strive for fully immersion in the litigation task. When I’m shopping for groceries, I try to focus on only the bounteous aisles of H-E-B. And then, when I’m writing, I try to write. I am try to sit there, seated, in the work.

I’m not always successful. Sometimes I’m buying berries and messaging the work Slack, or I’m cooking dinner and reading the summer intern’s memo. In those moments, I’ve repeatedly returned to this quote from legendary NBA Coach Doc Rivers:

I think pressure is a privilege . . . You can play your whole life and never have a pressure situation. Who wants that? You should feel privileged that you’ve worked hard enough to put yourself in that situation. You should embrace it, you should enjoy it, and you should understand it’s hard, and all that. That’s a privilege.

That sounds kind of like hustle-culture bullshit, but it’s not, not the way Doc Rivers means it.¹ I queried my book because I wanted this kind of “pressure situation.” I went to law school because I wanted this kind of “pressure situation.” I chose it. I walked into it intentionally, because both bring me joy, and because they give my life meaning. And now I’m here.

In that light, I am very grateful for the opportunity to speed-run my days. I am doing the kind of civil-rights work of which I dreamed, and which I genuinely believe makes a difference. I’m writing a novel, and using my brain in brand-new ways. Even just having the creativity and the opportunity to write is a wonderful, lucky thing. Juggling all that, I remind myself, is the game. The juggling is part of the challenge. No one said this was gonna be easy.

Wish me luck, and if you have suggestions for tackling revisions or speed-running the day, let me know in the comments.

Sincerely,

Nina

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What’s Saving My Life Right Now

• The Headspace app.

• I bought this lavender-ojai linen spray because NYT’s Wirecutter recommended it and I am attempting to improve my sleep hygiene.

• The very easy recipes in this incredible sheet-pan cookbook that also has my fiancé raving.

1. I’m not talking about worrying about whether I’ll eat, or whether I’ll pay my bills, or whether I’ll be deported. If you’re looking for somewhere to donate, I suggest MALDEF, which is doing front-line work to protect Latino communities in states like Texas and nationwide.