Five Strained Metaphors for Getting It Right from James W. Ziskin

How do you know when you’ve got it right?

As with everything else in my life, I don’t. I never know if I’ve got it right. 

Metaphor N. 1

Your book is a recipe. Well, actually, it isn’t. But for the sake of this metaphor let’s say it is. You measure out the ingredients, prepare them with care, and, if you follow the directions to the letter, you can be reasonably certain the result will be great.

“If only I can avoid burning it, everything will turn out fine…”

Me writing a novel…

The only problem is I often burn dinner.

Metaphor N. 2

Your book is a road. When I start a book, I have an idea of where I’m going. But since there are no streets or toll roads in the creative process, I must find my own way. Forge my own path. The actual route I end up taking may well be different from what I imagined at the start.

Metaphor N. 3

Your book is a photo album of your life. Do the pictures of you as a child look like you today? Of course not. We change as we grow. We get bigger, stronger, smarter. Then, just when we’re finally starting to enjoy our hard-earned maturity and financial solvency, we begin to decay. The bloom of youth fades and, as we near the end, our thews and sinews sag and our joints hurt. We drool. But aging is kind of cool, don’t you think? If you don’t count the final act, that is. 

Do you recognize the guy in the mug shot in any of the fresh faces below? Honestly, I don’t.

Mug shot

Metaphor N. 4

This is your original concept

Your book is a painting. You work on it for months—years—agonizing over details, embellishments, improvements… You sand, you erase, you start over, and rebuild it. Then you fix it, brush it, let it sit. And you polish it until your agent writes to say, “It’s due. Where the hell is it?” 

Here’s your “finished” book

You submit it and, despite your worst fears, your editor says, “Well… It’s not exactly what you showed me three months ago, but… 

I LOVE IT! It’s just right!”

These metaphors may be fun to think about but, in reality, my work is never “just right.” The sad truth is that it’s merely reached its drop-dead date and I must let it go. It may not be a Hopper, but it’s in the can. And that’s my fifth metaphor.