The Perfect Read

Phoebe and I have now gone through two rounds of edits. I think she's exhausted.

I'm now on a quest for the perfect read; a read-through of The Dickensian Reset where I change nothing. I don't know how long it will take to get there, but the idea of publishing, then finding something I want to change—after it's too late—troubles me.

Lilly likes to remind me that perfection is unattainable, and that I have to stop editing sometime, but I'd feel better if I could make it through a read and not be tweaking sentences along the way.

That said, I'm closer than ever. I have typeset the book at this point (which unfortunately makes it more difficult to edit since I'm maintaining it in two different formats), I've registered for an ISBN and LCCN, and I'm partway through the copyright process.

All I need now is that perfect read.

What's in a name?

To protect the privacy of my fellow psych ward patients, I had always intended to change their names while writing The Dickensian Reset. Unfortunately, the stigma surrounding mental illness is too great to even consider otherwise. 

What was less clear to me was the need to alter my own identity, not to mention the identity of my family, coworkers, doctors, hospital staff, and nurses. Both Lilly and Phoebe (not their real names) have encouraged me to do so to protect myself from both stalkers and potential litigation.

Phoebe suggested I take it one step even further; to change the names of certain places and other details mentioned in the book to make this transformation even more complete. One thing that I'm not changing is Erie County Medical Center, the setting of most of the story.

When I originally wrote the manuscript for The Dickensian Reset, I used everyone's real names just to keep my own confusion to a minimum. Now as I go back and anonymize the text, I feel less connected to it. It's been a difficult exercise to come up with names for people that are just as fitting as their real ones. 

I wish I didn't have to do it at all. There's a large part of me that wants to live openly with my disorder; the world simply isn't ready to accept mentally ill people. 

The stigma is real.

Happy Anniversary?

It was two years ago today that I went into the psych ward.

Being in mania felt great; I felt invincible. It was the most spiritual experience of my life. 

But I was also deeply unwell. I was unable to function at my day job. I became someone other than myself. It put an immense strain on my marriage.

When I left the psych ward, I began writing a memoir of my experience, The Dickensian Reset. I wrote until I got to a point where the work became too personal to continue writing. For some time afterward, I was unhappy with the result.

I finally picked up the book again last month and completed it. At this point, the draft is in the hands of my sister, Phoebe, who has agreed to edit it. 

I'm very thankful for her interest and her work on the book. At the same time, I'm worried that her edits may change my voice. I plan to comb over each change and see whether it's something I want to accept or not. 

In the meanwhile, I started working on cover designs for the book. Oddly, the thing that's been hardest for Phoebe, my wife Lilly, and I to agree upon is the subtitle. Since you have to actually read The Dickensian Reset in order to understand the title, the subtitle is key to get folks to actually pick up the book. 

I plan on offering the work as a paperback, kindle, and audible audiobook. Will folks actually read it? I would be honored if that was the case. I worry that in this media-saturated world  it might not stand out enough.

So, if you're here exploring my blog because you've enjoyed the book, please do share it with others.