What is it?
Regular readers know I worry over my posts a fair bit before they see the light of day. Don't necessary picture days spent sweating in an obscure cave — well, with some, yes, but.... Just know I write carefully, and try to look at them from several different angles proactively before hitting the PUBLISH POST button.
But it simply Does. Not. Matter. how many times I do that, or how hard — some extra dynamic kicks in only after I publish it, and often after I re-read it in its posted form.
It happened today. That post took a couple-few days' work, and has been on my mind a good long time. Yesterday was a very crowded, tense day, but I carved the time to finish it. A few touches more, and it went up this morning.
But as I walked out to my car to head to work, bink! a critical addition struck me, a necessary clarification.
Thankfully, none of my earlier commenters seized on the lack, so I headed off... well, whatever. Perhaps herds of horses of my imagination. Regardless, I headed them off.
How is that "worrying"? Oh, you can guess.
Both my books that are with my two publishers. I worked and worked over them, worried and worried, sought others' input. Now my editor will add his. And I'll worry them some more.
But!
Experience indicates what will happen the moment I receive a printed copy.
So you can understand if I'm already praying for a second edition.
(And no, don't say you'll wait for that one, or there will never be one!)
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12 comments:
Dan, the worrying you do shows. That's why I read you every day.
There are not thanks enough in the world to cover all you do.
That's extremely kind of you, but I'm sure I get more out of it than anyone else. Thanks for reading!
(c:
Dan, don’t be anxious. I have that on good authority.
I am patiently waiting to read your book on Proverbs. Is it because I love the book of Proverbs so much? Nope. It’s because for some reason the book of Proverbs is one of my least favorite books of the Bible. I still can’t figure out why that is so and I hope your book helps because I must be missing something.
So let’s see it already!
Poor analogy, but I feel the same way about design work I do. If I allowed myself, I could tinker, and tweak and finesse a design and never release it.
Your work is exceptional, DJP. No worries.
I do the same thing. I do it at work.
Spend time on a visio for some system I'm building...look at it. Come back later, look at it again.
Send it out to my boass, and DOH! Instantly notice something I missed.
In any case, I promise to buy your book (possibly on Kindle, possibly hardcopy, possibly both) and get the second edition in Logos (hint, hint). Lord willing, of course.
Dan,
I only wish I was as worrisome about my comments (well, maybe I am sometimes). I see this as God's grace in your life to keep you humble enough and reverent enough in your fear of the Lord so that you don't just post here and other blogs without examining your handling of the Word.
I often find that the books I enjoy reading the most have a lot of remarks expressing gratitude to those who spent time offering advice and criticism to the author. The reason being, the author knows he didn't get everything right the first time and all on his own.
I am anxious for the book because I feel like I need to focus on Proverbs more in my daily life. Theology is fun and I love learning, but the doing is where the rubber hits the road in the life of a Christian.
Dan,
I suspect that your tendency to have an epiphany after publishing (at whatever level) is shared by many who write.
Suffice it to say that you are most certainly your own worst critic.
They say Van Gogh could never look at one of his paintings without being grieved by the imperfections. A healthy dose of self criticism is a useful thing; just don’t lose an ear over it. You fret because you care, because you care we are blessed.
Thanks for writing.
Dan,
Just be glad you didn't write it when you were, say, 25.
Arthur Pink wrote a thorough well-researched book on premillennialism (I owned a "prized" copy, but sold it on eBay), and later totally scrapped it, having become an Amill guy.
How embarrasskin', Olive. Not really. At least it shouldn't be. We learn, grow, and change our minds -- so shoot us.
As long as we remain cybernetically Christ centered, we'll be fine.
Anyway, it's great that you care :)
Once my mother, a skilled baker, was making a carrot cake for a family member's birthday. When it was all mixed up, the batter looked too thin to her, so she added some flour. Then it looked too thick, so she added some liquid and some more shredded carrots and nuts and such to keep the proportions correct. On and on it went, until she gave up and put it in the oven. It ended up weighing something like twelve pounds and was almost inedible.
In my experience as a copy editor, too much tinkering with a finished manuscript can have the same effect. Now that it's "in the oven," so to speak, trust that God, who enabled you to write it, will use it to nourish the hungry, mistakes and omissions and all.
Dan:
I feel your pain. I do that all the time. Either I work tenaciously at something until it's "perfect" (at least in my own flawed eyes)—and sometimes give up in despair at ever getting it perfect—or I put something out and beat myself up for real or imagined flaws.
"Perfectionism" is as much a curse as it is a gift. "Perfectionism" doesn't necessarily mean that one's work is perfect (although there may be a striving in that direction); but it does mean that one can obsess endlessly over it!
But you know that no matter what flaws you see (real or imagined), others won't; and when someone does pick on something, it'll be something you didn't expect, coming at you from an angle.
Thank God (literally) that He knows that we will never satisfy His standard of perfection, and has given us One who perfectly obeyed where we have failed.
"In abundance of words, transgression is unavoidable." (I'm sure you know the reference)
But at least you post regularly. And well. And that's why we keep coming back for more. So keep writing, including what you "forgot to say" the first time. Because we're still here. Usually.
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