An Ode to Editing

Some people dread it. Some embrace it. Initially, I'm on the fence, but fences are places where observations take root, so it's not a bad place to be.

I started editing for UnSung tonight and once more, I looked at the beginning and felt disjointed. I wanted to say too much at once. I was trying to fit all the nouns into one little sentence, one wordy paragraph, one choppy chapter. Yet in this mess, I also centered and found what I really wanted to say. In this case, I took out the character and set about rewording it to paint the scene before the character introduction found a nice natural spot to nestle in. It not only worked, but the dreaded beginning quickly morphed into the story I demanded from it.

If you're the sort of writer that struggles with beginnings, you probably always will. I do and this is far from my first. Either as a reader or a writer, I've seen them all. It doesn't get easier, but I gave up the perfect cram of nouns and started with building on solid ground. Because in the beginning, it's all loose sand sifting through sweaty, anxious hands. What clings is few, what remains isn't enough to make a decent sand castle with. Yet you can make the accumulation interesting, the bits and pieces start to form. You just have to let go of all you think sand is and start working on what you need it to be. I need these words to lead to castles and I need these characters to build them. As the writer and the editor, I am the benevolent pharaoh and these will be pyramids, modern day tombs and underworld palaces.

Sometimes I even forget what my job is. I get drawn in to this false sense of comfort that I am simply the reader. Yet in that tunnel vision, I find those organic flinches that tell me something isn't right, an intuition that goes beyond just the technical edit and helps me polish the pace, the structure, the flow. I also find those sterile places that need my voice, those opportunities for humor or exasperation or introspection.

The hours creep away. I meant to read one chapter and suddenly it's 2 AM and I'm four chapters deep on the edge of my seat. I should know what's happening; I wrote the damn thing, yet there I am-- edge of my seat, wondering when my heart will slam into the ceiling as the roller coaster car plunges down so fast, I'd swear it jumped the track and any moment I'll crash. Yet I soar because I thought I knew what I wrote, but I had no idea I'd hit the right notes quite so well. I am proud, I am amazed, I am spinning even when the ride gasps where it's done.

Or the crash comes and I'm frowning at the tragedy of rushed and messy and sometimes incoherent words. Yup, I wrote that too. Yet rather than throw it aside for another unfortunate session, I'm combing through, sifting out the treasures and reminding myself once more. Too much, too little; don't see the sand, see what you want it to be.

I'm sure you're arriving at where I'm going here-- that however you feel about those dreaded edits, there's some real gold-mining here. I even pity the people who are so confident in their first drafts that they bypass this sadistic (and masochistic) pleasure of the edit. It's partly attitude, partly experience, partly realizing that your writer brain is absolutely not on stand-by but a valuable and liberating part of the process.

So here's my advice: no matter how much you focus on being prolific or rushing to the next idea because you just have so many or whatever excuse you've made for avoiding it, teach yourself the art of editing. When I'm not working on my own projects, hell, I'd be happy to let you pay me to do it even. In the beginning of my journey, I might have tried to get away with doing it as little as possible, but now, I anticipate it. When I'm celebrating a finished draft, I'm rubbing my hands together at the treasure trove ahead of me in the next phase.

In my experience, a great editor, like a great writer, is adaptable to the process. In the case of self-editing, you're holding court with yourself-- often it's the you that initially wrote it and the you that is deciding if that hard work is really the best it can be. You don't trade the passion of drafting for doldrums in editing. I find my new knowledge to be exciting to work with, like an expert that has the power to change canon with a tap of the keyboard. Because I am.

So, if you need the motivation to tackle every perceived weakness, remember you'll be skipping along the highs of your strengths. You'll be the master of a drafted piece and you'll wave a wand over mistakes, be inspired to add (and delete) scenes, really feel the life pulsing through your ideas.

To me, book releases are far more dreadful. It's that stage that always makes it hard to swallow because it's where you're finally letting it go, where the words are stuck exactly where you left them. Yet don't let that stop you either. While some stories will never give you the confidence that they're ready, others will be more insistent. I always give my MSs one final pass where I tie my hands down and ask if this passes as a reader. If so, it's going to be the best damn indication you can get.

Truly, I hope I can win over more writers to the joys of editing. It's certainly not the first dastardly task that has won me over with time. If my stubborn brain can be won, I have hope for the rest of you!