When It’s Not Quite Right – Working on Another Legend/Another Novel
Whether painting or writing, sometimes we hit a wall. The last time I started over on a painting, it was because I was using the wrong side of my watercolor paper. This time, the paper’s not at fault. It’s all on me.
Having worked too long on getting the likeness and emotional expression just right, I finally realized it was time to call a halt, ditch the disaster and start over. Fortunately, all the lessons learned on that first go steered me in the right direction. The new version came faster, easier. It’s still not finished, but I’m happy with where it’s headed, and it doesn’t look overworked (yet). 
When I’m writing a story, the opening sentence or paragraph often comes fast. Like in Bitch Factor, 1998, my first bestselling novel: “If Betsy had known about the car waiting for her at the curb that morning, waiting for her to step into the intersection, she would have worn the purple shirt.” Or in Rage Factor, 1999: “Cold. Bone piercing cold needled Sissy’s muscles.”
Those openings came quick and easy, as did this one: “The Jag don’t belong here,” Murley was saying, big belly grazing the side mirror as he faced the young cop. “Anybody could see that. Sticks out like a damn poodle at a dogfight.” Spare Change, my first award-winning short story, was published in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine in June 1996 and republished recently in Death Edge Tales: 7 Nail-Biting Stories of Suspense. http://www.amazon.com/Death-Edge-Tales-Nail-Biting-Suspense/dp/1479254002/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1436821439&sr=8-2&keywords=death+edge+tales
In writing Emissary, however, the first book in a trilogy featuring Longshadow, a Houston cop, and Ruell, an emissary from a doomed planet, I finished the book and revised the opening half a dozen times. Yet, after receiving the ARC (advanced reader copy), I still felt compelled to reposition a paragraph from the opening page. This kind of tedious determination can make us crazy. After all, once we finally know what we’re doing, shouldn’t art or writing come easy? http://www.amazon.com/Emissary-Chris-Rogers/dp/1631250051/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1436822812&sr=8-1&keywords=emissary+chris+rogers
No. When it comes too easy, that’s when boredom sets in (IMHO) and the work may be put out to an audience before it’s the best it can be. My first novel, Bitch Factor, was completely revised 10 times before I sent it to an agent. Then she had “a few revisions,” which involved two complete rewrites. After my editor at Bantam won the bid and bought the rights to publish it, she said, “Chris, you know I love this book. I have just a few revisions.” Fortunately, every rewrite made it better, and I can read Bitch Factor today without wanting to change a single word.
Sometimes, though, we hit a wall when everything we do seems to be just fidgeting – possibly even making a small problem worse. Is it time to quit?
The novel I’m writing now has turned tedious at the precise point where I must ratchet up the tension and bring the whole story together in a climactic moment. I groan just thinking about it. And the current short story in my queue stopped short when my attention was seized by another exciting idea. Now I can’t recall where it was headed.
Though my studio is filled with half-finished paintings, my story files are not quite so littered. A few seemed wonderful and exciting at first then out before I got to “the end.” In every case, however, I learned valuable lessons that keep me writing and painting.
Occasionally, I decide, “Maybe it’s time to set fire to the whole lot.” Or then again, “Maybe it’s just time to start over with a new perspective.” Starting anew can be a good thing.
Here’s a “first draft” of how the painting above might look once I finish both the watercolor insert and the acrylic background then assemble the pieces – provided I don’t hit another wall. By the way, can you guess the name of this legendary singer? 
