Forum / Editing...

• 
  Gone

  Jul 06, 05:02pm

  Getting close to the final edit of a novel-in-progress, yesterday I deleted an entire chapter, one that pleased me both in the writing and the fact of its necessity, a crucial link to the whole of the novel. It was so beautifully written, I reasoned that its inclusion was beneficial.

  I was deluded.

  Part of the problem was pride. A novel, however, is too big a place for the author to inject him or herself without crippling the narrative. Pride, in that perspective, can be a trap, a roadside IED.

  A novelist has two possible choices in avoiding such traps. One is to enlist an editor, the other is to do it yourself. The latter choice is dangerous, but necessary for some people, whether due to personality or the lack of funding. Editing a novel is hard work and not something you can ask of a friend.

  The reason I was able to make such a radical cut was distance. Distance being detachment for a period of time, during which the repetitive task of incessant edits was set aside and the adoption of specific benchmarks were carefully considered and brutally implemented when I returned.

  It's a difficult task, but with logical guidelines to follow, cutting that chapter was easier than I thought.

• 
  mxi wodd

  Jul 07, 06:47am

  Novel...

  Writing a novel...

  WANTING to write a novel...

  Being DRIVEN (from an early age) to write a novel...

  BEING A NOVELIST...

  EDITING A NOVEL...

  SUBMITTING A NOVEL...

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Beyond my ken.
  Beyond me 'scope.
  Beyond (n' far past)
  my comprehension.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Different species.
  Different language.
  Different world.

  (different paper/different ink?)

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  HOW THE HELL YA' DO IT?!

  (i like
  tiny
  short
  little
  poems)

  
  Geebus Crippus!

  A NOVEL??!

  Are you insane?!?!?!

  I's a different beast,

  Big Game, I imagine they
  would say....

  My hat's off to ya.

  Just a TOTALLY DIFFERENT engagement with...

  life.

  I like to get in,
  get out...

  the continued exposure/contact
  must be debilitating!

  Again, hats off to ya, Johnny!

  Incomprehensible!

• 
  mxi wodd

  Jul 07, 07:12am

  Man on beach picks up pebble, tosses it hand to hand. Thinks. Says, "Hmmm..."

  The pebble grows, gains weight (who knows how...) as he tosses it hand to hand.

  Out of necessity the man lifts it above his head in acrobatic fashion, still spinning, tossing, fashioning, kneading the now-flabby mass.

  The mass grows heavier.

  The man works harder, running, dashing here n' there to keep the ever-growing mass above his head (and not falling on his wife/children/neighbors)

  "What are you doing?!" cry the observant, curious, few.

  "I'm writing a novel!" the man cries out, angry to be distracted from his task of kneading, balancing, juggling, in mid-air, the ever-growing mass.

  "How will you know when it's done?" call out the few remaining morbidly-interested bystanders.

  "When all 9,387 pounds of it float in the air above my head and I can stop all this nonsense!"

• 
  Gone

  Jul 07, 10:21am

  Writing a novel is no big deal. Once, I built a nuclear powered aircraft carrier. Like the old Miller High Life beer commercial... "Carving a ship from a mountain of steel."

  Of course, with the aircraft carrier, I had a little help.

  With a novel, you just chip away, chip away, chip away. Writing it's easy. Editing's the killer.

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