"Where do you want the piano this time, lady?" was a phrase we adopted to signal the other that this was the VERY last time something was getting relocated. It came about, as you might guess, from the workmen who were called in to help grandmama when the piano needed to move up or down the stairs, not just across the room.
My dad, gent that he was, moved a lot of furniture but even he had a limit to his patience. Dad would say "you get one free move" when Mum decided the book cases would look better on the south wall. After that, we were on our own.
Which was ok with us. We moved furniture in the middle of the night more often than not. My sisters and dad would wake to find a sofa had mysteriously appeared from another room and now blocked their usual path to the coffee pot.
Ah yes, the good old days.
Now that I live in NYC in a sub 500 square foot apartment, there's not only less furniture to move, the floor plan presents some challenges.
Thus, the story of the snot-green couch. (I did not name this couch, but sadly, it's too on the nose to give up.)
I'd always wanted a couch with a chaise.
I fell in love with this thing the instant I saw it. That it was on sale was just a bonus. I loved it so much I didn't even sit on it before I bought it.
But that chaise element added not just length to the required area, it took up more volume than it actually occupied. There were only two places it fit in the apartment that did not block the path to other rooms. The day I thought "well, I'll just go OVER it to get to the kitchen" was the day I realized something had to change.
I had three choices:
1. Live with the sofa even though it wasn't quite right for the apartment.
2. Revise the sofa in some major way
I don't have to explain about rent control in NYC for you to intuit that Number 3 was not an option.
And you don't have to know me very well to know that Number 1 was also not an option.
Thus: Number 2, revise the sofa.
Which I did.
I think the Lesson of the Snot-Green Couch (revise what doesn't work) applies to your manuscripts as well.
Sometimes you have a project you LOVE!
Only it doesn't work. Either as a story, or in the marketplace.
Love zombies? Zombies aren't doing well right now.
Love old-fashioned gunslinger westerns? Not much call for that.
Zombie cowboys? No. Some things should not be written.
Unless you trash it (ie #3 Move) or self-publish it (#1 live with it) you're going to need to be willing to do some drastic revisions.
That you love the manuscript isn't part of the equation. I loved that damn chaise but love didn't make it fit where it needed to live.
Be willing to consider a major overhaul.
Be willing to cut things, revise things, sew a seam (out of sight of course).
Be willing to sacrifice what you love for something that actually does the job you need.
Sadly, the snot-green couch has now sprung a coil or four.
I think I need to buy a new one.
This time, I'm sitting on it first.
And I'm not buying one with a chaise.
Cause what I really need is a comfy spot to read your amazing novel about zombie gunslingers.