onions and parfaits

So as I prepare to publish the next novel, I am struck by how I edit.  My revising is what I've termed the onion and parfait method.  And yes, I did steal that term from Shrek.

So Donkey and Shrek are walking along, talking about layers.  Some are nice, like parfaits.  Everybody likes parfaits you know.  Others are like onions, I think Shrek brings that up.  It's been a long times since I've seen that movie, but Bob and I were watching a bio on Eddie Murphy about two weeks ago, and it's been wafting in my head since then.  Today, reading over another chapter of Alvin's Farm, I realized that's how I revise, in layers, one at a time.

Multiple layers, many many layers.  Which translates into several read-throughs, time and again.  But it's how I work, tedious and time-consuming.  We had a terrific Thanksgiving with my family yesterday, but even before we left I tackled three and a half chapters, trying to reach that final layer, some tangible center of whatever Alvin's Farm is supposed to be.  But for all my reading and revising, I have firmly come to the conclusion there is no perfect novel.  At least that's my claim, and I'm sticking to it.  So even though I want to attain that immaculate, nirvana-like state for my books, it's all in my head.

Like Donkey and Shrek; parfaits and onions.  I prefer a parfait, but onions are good in savories.  I can't make a soup or stew without an onion.  Garlic too, but the only layer with garlic is the peel, pretty easily sorted.  Onions however keeping going, like a parfait.  Parfaits smell nicer too, besides that delectable sweetness.  We didn't have any parfaits yesterday, but plenty of good food, including my mom's sweet potato pie, of which one slice sits in my fridge.  No layers there either, I just like thinking about sweet potato pie.

Sweet things are so much better to consider, but they probably have as many layers as an onion.  My novels all own layers that need removal, and just when I think I've plumbed the depth, I look again, hacking off another level, another layer.  But I'm getting closer with Alvin, Jenny and Sam.  How do I know this?

Because next week I'm publishing this novel, the first of the Alvin's Farm series.  The first of six, and if you want to laugh at me (and I richly deserve it), check this, some slight insanity that nearly two years later turned into the last of six books.  A perfect example of how I never know what is going to happen with writing, other than it's going to land somewhere between a parfait and an onion.  And really, I couldn't choose which is the better of the two...