Before I tell you why renovating is like revising, I'll tell you the one obvious way in which they are not alike. In renovating a house, I am revising someone else's work. (Obviously, I didn't build the house originally.)
OK, on to the analogy.
Short backstory. We have lived in Atlanta since June 200, longer than my husband or I have lived anywhere. He retired two years ago and wanted to move. He specifically wanted to move back to his hometown, a place he hasn't lived since 1983. He had his reasons for wanting to move. I had mine for staying put. We came to an agreement that we would move only if we fell in love with a house. I thought the likelihood for that happening were slim to none.
I was wrong. We found a house. This house. Built in 1925 and located in a lovely Historical District.
End of backstory.
Sometimes I fall in love with a story idea and just start writing, without worrying about where it will end up. With this house, we had the usual house inspection before buying. No foundation cracks and no termites, the two things southern homeowners fret about. The house had good "bones" but there were a few things we wanted to change.
We had already figured out that what we originally thought was a garage was actually a workshop. Large for a workshop but in no way big enough for a car, let alone two.
That's OK, we thought. It's a big yard. We'll just tear down the workshop and build a garage. We learned that any changes to the exterior and yard had to be approved by the Neighborhood Historical Commission. Running these plans by a committee is not unlike working with an agent who points out why your idea is or is not acceptable, in terms of sales. (I do not have an agent but have a lot of friends who do. I've heard their stories.)
Then my husband, the cook of the household, decided the kitchen needed help. It was not an original to o the house, but added by some previous owner. It had some odd features such as a corner fireplace and a mirrored wall.
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| Kitchen selfie in the mirrored wall. Fireplace to right. |
Most importantly for said husband, it had terrible flow and was too small. And while we were at it, why not add a covered back porch? Plans drawn and revised to the specifications of the Historical Commission.
"Revising" the kitchen and adding a porch meant to demolishing the whole back of the house. We discovered that the kitchen had been added before the days of building permits.
This is what the "framing" looked like. I thought that our contractors had randomly nailed up some boards to keep the frame from caving in. No. That
was the frame. (This was the point where I seriously questioned the guy who inspected the house before sale)
I write out of sequence. Whatever scene is in my brain at the moment, that's what I write. If I come to a spot where I don't know what comes next, I type a couple of lines of giant Xs in red. I will return to this later on. Discovering what was holding the old kitchen "together" was like finding a page of red Xs. You have a great start, an envisioned ending....and a yawning chasm between the two. And oh yeah, the existing porch had been built over an old hot tub.
If this were a book for which I had no contract, I might have just thrown up my hands at this point. However, this was a house we had bought. Fortunately we had a great contractor who, after he stopped laughing, figured out how to rebuild the kitchen and porch. Another set of plans to the Historical Commission, who move with the speed of the Supreme Court. Construction stopped until we heard from them.
That was just the first floor. The second floor had it's own issues that involved...you guessed it. Another set of plans to the Historical Commission.
As I write this, we are getting down to the "final edit." The floors are being refinished, and the screened porch, framed. How long did it all this "revising" take? Eighteen months. I didn't mention the obvious cosmetic changes like repainting every room, changing all the light fixtures and door knobs to something more period appropriate. Replacing the 70's linoleum in the front hall with ceramic tile. Taking down a set of random "columns" in the office that were hiding the fact that that the floor was uneven.
In writing, I can revise and revise and still never be satisfied with my work. After awhile. I'm not revising; I'm just re-arranging nitpicky details that don't really matter. I'm revising to put off the inevitable...showing my masterpiece to someone who may or may not like it.
With the our new house, we had only ourselves to please (and of course the Historical Commission.) The inevitable is now putting our current house up for sale. Which means...another renovation job. Gutting a master bathroom. A new roof. Painting inside and out. But it's time to get on with it.
We hope to move by mid-July.
Posted by Mary Ann Rodman
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