Long before I actually started writing, I did ascribe to the romantic notion of sitting next to a window that overlooked the ocean, a soft fragrant the sea breeze wafting through the room, while I wrote the Great American Novel. (And I'd eat chocolate all day and never gain a pound).
Reality set in (especially since I live nowhere near the ocean and I haven't found any calorie-free chocolate) and I soon realized that if I wanted to write it would have to be between pregnancies, nursing babies, poopy diapers, barfing kids, homework, dishes, mountains of laundry, yard work, cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring, church callings, service to others and all the other day-to-day things. I decided that my desire to write was strong enough to motivate me to figure out how to work it in. I adapted.
This gave birth to a new romantic notion. After studying and practicing and studying and practicing, I would pound out nearly perfect manuscripts that would be accepted on the spot. You're laughing, aren't you? Well, it didn't take too long for me to realize the error of that notion. I adapted.
And, yes, a new romantic notion emerged. If a publisher liked my manuscript well enough to offer a contract on it, then it must mean I would not have to revise or rewrite any of it. It would be published just as I had submitted it. Maybe that's true for some. Maybe some writers can write so flawlessly that they never have to rewrite anything. I wish that were me, but it's not. Again, I adapted.
Cedar Fort accepted my YA LDS novel, Heaven Scent, several months ago. Since then, I have been revising it, making it better (I hope) with each revision. My editor is great, she's caught blunders and asked insightful questions so I could clarify the story. She told me this week they may move up my press date to January 15th. This is exciting news, but it's also a little scary.
I don't think I have any romantic notions left, except maybe, someday, that one of my stories will touch someone, somewhere, somehow. That's a notion I'll hang onto.