The Infinite Page of DOOM

Yesterday was Alternate History (read: Steampunk) Day at the Minnesota Historical Society. I was invited to participate in a panel discussion about writing science fiction/fantasy. The discussion was moderated by Jody Wurl and my fellow panelists were Kelly McCullough and Kelly Barnhill, which meant it was basically Con. I mean, I was even able to look out into the audience and see people I would normally see at a local convention, including a bunch of folks who were cosplaying Steampunk.

I felt right at home.

I wonder what the MHS folks would have thought if I'd showed up in Bleach cosplay? Does anyone ever cross Edo period Japan and steampunk? How awesome would a steampunk samurai be, huh? ooooooh. Now I have a new idea swirling around in my head....

At any rate, the panel had the potential to be boring (though I knew with Jody moderating and with McCullough there, that was a lot less likely) since the topic was so broad and one that people have heard a ton of times. I mean, what's it like to be a writer? You sit on your butt a lot and type. Yawn. Luckily, we were asked interesting questions and we gave some surprising answers. The one that nearly did me in was this scene:

Audience Member: What's your revision process like?

McCullough and I: (standard answer, our version.)

Barnhill: Well, I might scare some people with this, but I open my document, hit "select all" and then delete.

McCullough and I: (sounds of heart attacks)

Me: Seriously????? You delete everything??? Even entire novels?????

Barnhill: Yes, then I recreate them from memory... (goes on about the awesome of "staying on the edge of the infinite page..." while McCullough and I struggle not to die of fright and horror.)

It took me probably a half hour to get over that. Thank GOD/DESS that Barnhill didn't bring that up until nearly the end of the session or we wouldn't have been able to talk about anything else, and, honestly, McCullough and I probably would have just continued to sputter like idiots. I mean, okay, it's her process and it works for her, but I nearly CRIED when I lost the first 30,000 words of Precinct 13. Okay, by chance, I think it is a better novel for that, but I can't imagine doing that on purpose... not without hiding a copy of the original somewhere at least. I know famous people have been known to do the whole "manuscipt goes into the fire" thing, but I think that's AWFUL. Plus, I have deadlines. Apparently, Barnhill has a deal where she doesn't have deadlines, which I can't actually fathom, but her publisher is Little Brown (not some nobody), so it's a good gig if you can get it, I guess.

Egads.