Would Yours Still Fit?

Your wedding dress, that is? Or top hat and tails? Bear with me, fellow writers - this is relevant to our craft…

A couple of weeks ago I fetched my wedding dress down from the loft. I hadn’t fitted it on since my wedding day, more than a decade ago. Finally the time had come to swish around in front of my daughter, show her what Mum had looked like for real, instead of in fancy photos. I mean my weight’s more or less the same, give or take a few pounds; my height hasn’t shrunk (yet) and my hair’s still blonde. To the outsider, to me even, there was no apparent reason why it shouldn’t slip on. So I undressed and stepped into the cream puff creation, trying not to tread on the skirts, beaming at my daughter as she helped me hike it up, imagining I’d look like one of those celebs on the cover of OK Magazine or Hello!

Folks, you’ve probably guessed the rest. We heaved, we hoed, but the zipper just wouldn’t budge. ‘It must be jammed!’ I cried as I breathed in hard and my daughter pulled together the seams, straining to do it up. But it was no use, the zip stuck fast at about ten inches from the top. Sheepishly I turned around, red in the face, looking like a half-peeled banana that was just about to fall out.

You see, I’ve changed. Not in an obvious way. But I’m not the same anymore. I’ve had two children and like it or not I’ve got a permanent mummy pouch. And why is all this relevant to our writing? Well, to me it’s a bit like going back to old work. When I hear of writers publishing books they’ve previously written, once they’ve made a successful debut, I wonder how. If I take out my old manuscripts, I’m not the same person I was when I wrote them all that time ago. There is no way I could even rework the book I wrote and subsequently abandoned last year. I would want to tweak every character, every plot twist, and delete the many bits which now make me cringe – it simply doesn’t fit me anymore. And I don’t fit it. My writing skills and I have moved on.

As far as I’m concerned once you’ve discarded a project don’t look back, don’t restrict your writing and try and force it to fit the parameters of something you created in the past. Sure, take it out from time to time, relish the memories, the excitement it gave you when it was fresh and new. But realize that whatever it cost, however criminal it seems to keep it hidden in the dark, you need to find new things to suit the current you and push yourself forward.

Of course, I might feel differently if an agent or editor took a real interest in my past work. In the same way that I might try the Brussel Sprout Diet if my husband announced a longing to renew our vows in our original garb. But for the moment - and for the future, I suspect - my old manuscripts are firmly stashed under the proverbial bed. As for my wedding dress? It is once again boxed – with love – and back in the loft.