Thursday, May 30, 2013

Self-editing for poets: Kill your darlings

Okay, okay ... I know it's a cliche, but sometimes they're the best thing to use because they epitomize what you're talking about, so it makes sense to embrace them, at least once in a while.  I've been doing a lot of poetry editing of late, of both my work and my clients' work, and the one thing I'm really noticing, at least in my own, is that sometimes (okay, to be honest, it's most of the time) those lines that you think are just perfect ... they're the ones that have to go.

I'm not sure why this is, but sometimes I suspect that these lines are meant to be the behind the scenes essence of the poem, something that needs to be written, but which shouldn't remain on the page.  Sometimes, I'll write a poem that's darling-less, but not often.  Usually there are one or two (or more) lines that I look at and say to myself, "This, this is just perfect."  Then I cringe, knowing full well that those are the very lines I will likely need to cut.  It's amazing, too, the impact that these cuts will have.  Somehow, other lines and words that were good, but maybe a bit flat, spring to life.  Then, with a bit of pruning of the remaining lines, the poem shines just a bit more brightly.

So give it a try ... take those darlings and push them to the side, and see where your newly bereft poem takes you.  And if you can't quite bear to part with your darlings entirely, you can always save them for another day, another poem.  I have an entire section of my poetry journal that's devoted to poem-less darlings.  What I'll do with them?  No idea.  BuUt at least they're not entirely gone.  ;-)

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Writing in circles

I actually had a bit of quiet writing time this morning, courtesy of a new Skylander the boys got yesterday.  I had some recent research sitting in an Evernote folder, my list of upcoming theme deadlines on my desk ... and a very blank page staring back at me.  It's times like this where I end up writing in circles, or so it seems, but those circles can certainly bear fruit, although not always in the way you expect them to.

The I'd chosen to work on this morning was, ironically, work.  I had an idea half formed in my head, one I'd been kicking around for a few days.  But once I put the character on the page, she just sat there like one of those chipboard figures.  Static, not moving, and very, very stock.

So, after a glare at the page, I poured another cup of coffee and sat down to write circles around her.  Questions emerged, like why she was stock, what things could I change about her, about the situation, about the story in general?  I wrote about work, about women's work, about perceptions of work, of differing valuations of work, of paid and unpaid labour, and many, many other things.  I didn't exactly get the short story I'd sat down to write written, but I did end up with a lot of material I'll be able to use for other projects.  I got to thinking about what I didn't like about her (she was too much of a wimp, no backbone) and what I didn't like about her husband (seemed to have been teleported into existence from the 1950s).  I've got a pretty good idea of where I'm going to take this story (and character) from here, and have some pretty extensive notes, but I'll come back to her later.

This kind of writing feels odd at first.  The easiest way to describe it is "brain dump," where every single thought that comes into your brain gets written onto the page.  No editing or censoring allowed.  You'll be amazed at the weird directions your mind goes, but when you go back through what you've written (which I don't recommend doing for a day or two), I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at what's lurking there.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Self-editing for fiction writers: Character "voice" in dialogue

I sat down this morning, requisite cup of coffee in hand, to take a close look at a short story I'd written a few months back.  It's one of those stories, the ones that you know have a good character and good plot arc, but there's something a bit off that you can't quite put your finger on.  This particular piece has been workshopped twice, to a bevvy of wonderful comments, but the slight problem lingers, which irks me.

A close inspection now, after having shelved it for a few months, revealed a small, but significant problem:  the main character's voice wasn't appropriate in the dialogue.  She's in her early sixties, children grown and gone, a housewife (how I hate that term, but that's a story for another day) with little confidence in herself and her abilities, grew up in the late 50s, and is a consummate worrywart.

She doesn't say much, 28 words out of 727, and only two lines of dialogue, which was part of the problem.  Those two lines were significant, which had been my intention, but I hadn't looked closely enough at exactly what she was actually saying in those two lines.  And therein lay the problem.  She'd lost a bit of her lack of confidence (and for no apparent reason), her words displaying a surety about herself that she shouldn't have possessed (a surety I only caught when I went through and read the dialogue, and nothing else, aloud).  A few minor changes, along with the addition of a bit more nonverbal communication on her part, and I'm pretty sure the problem's solved.

Congruency and consistency across and within characters is important, so make sure, when editing, that your character's dialogue (and "voice") match the character you've constructed.  Also, because dialogue is meant to be spoken, it's a good idea to read it aloud.  If your character doesn't quite sound "in character," it's likely that they aren't.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Fixated on a theme


I’ve spent the last few days thinking about thresholds, in general, and luminal spaces, more specifically. I’ve made mind maps, jotted random thoughts on random scraps of paper, and spent a sleepless early morning contemplating the nature of metamorphosis, embarkment, and the last transformation of the human soul (courtesy of my recent foray into Chinese mythology and butterflies). I’ve even written a short story on the topic, as I edged around and toward what I really wanted to write about, as if by writing near it I could somehow move forward.

Why the struggle? I had a vague idea of what I wanted to write about, but wasn’t sure how to approach it, or even if I should (or could) approach it. Is it really my story to tell? Maybe, and maybe not. But if I don’t tell it, no one else will. The theme is stuck in my head, and for a good reason. I still have no idea exactly how I’m going to write about it, but I’m going to put pen to paper, and see what happens. At this point, I don’t even know what format or genre it’s going to take, but I do know that, for some reason, I need to write it. And that’s reason enough to, at least for me.  

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Self-editing for fiction writers: Making description active

We've all read one of those books.  You know the kind.  The ones where the action is wonderful, the characters are complex, and you're hooked on the story.  There's just one problem:  the extensive descriptive passages that seem to have nothing to do with the story.

If you're like me, you spend a lot of time thinking about physical setting before you write.  I usually have a pretty clear idea in my head of what things look like, where they are, and how/why they're significant to my characters.  And I've been known, in first drafts, go just write a descriptive sequence, knowing that it'll have to be changed at a later date.  After all, readers will want to know what the setting looks like, at least to an extent, but I know that they're not going to want to read two pages of description of a character's apartment.     Your characters will need to interact with the setting, changing setting elements from active to passive.

That big, black leather couch under the window?  It shouldn't just sit there and do nothing.  It doesn't have to grow legs or do anything odd, but passive description can be wordy and awkward.  After all, it seems a bit weird to have Johnny come home, then say to himself, "Oh, there's my big, black leather couch under the window."  Instead, think of ways in which Johnny might interact with the couch.  Does he stub a toe on it as he goes past?  Does he fling his jacket onto it?  Shoo his cat off it?  Flop into it after a long day at work?  Any one of these changes the description from passive to active, and active's where it's at.

Passive description example


Johnny opened the door of his apartment and walked in.  There was a big, black leather couch under the window.  The silver blinds were drawn.  The coffee table was piled with newspapers and magazines.

Active description example


Johnny opened the door of his apartment and walked in.  He flung his leather jacket onto the couch under the window, then reached up to open the blinds, much to his cat's delight.  She hopped up onto the back of the black leather couch, surveying the outside world.  Johnny went to drop his keys on the coffee table, then thought better of it.  They just might get lost in the pile of newspapers and magazines.


Keep in mind, both of these are drafts, which I've deliberately left as such.  There's still a considerable amount of tweaking that needs to be done, even with the second example, but both should give you an idea of how to incorporate description more actively into your writing.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Self-editing for fiction writers: Point of view

I spent yesterday evening tinkering with a short story I'd been working on for a while.  Something about it wasn't quite working, and I just couldn't put my finger on it.  If you'd seen me, you might have thought me a bit bonkers, as I paced from one end of the house to the other, manuscript in hand, muttering to myself.

I didn't want to give up on the story, but I also didn't want to completely redraft the entire thing.  I took a close look at a few things, including scene structure and dialogue, but both of these worked.  What wasn't working, however, was the point of view from which the story was written.  There was a lot of action, but I'd originally written the story in third person, which is fairly common.  Shifting things around a bit, I changed it from third person to first person, using "I" and "me" throughout.  A bit more tweaking, and the story read much better.  I'm still not finished with it, but it's now far, far closer to seeing the light of day.

My self-editing advice, thus, for fiction writers is to take a close look at perspective, point of view, and narrative voice.

  • Whose perspective are you telling the story from?  Does it work?  Might another character's perspective work better?
  • What point of view are you using to tell the story?  If it's first, try third.  If third, try using first. 
  • Look at your narrative voice, too.  If you're using third person objective, perhaps try using third person subjective or third person omniscient.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Self-editing for fiction writers: Editing practice

Editing is one of those things that's really hard to teach.  You kind of have to learn by *doing* more than anything.  An ear for language, a good understanding of grammar, and general nit-picky-ness help, too.

I've been dabbling in drabble of late, primarily because I don't seem to have a lot of uninterrupted time in which to write.  I have several longer projects on the go, but was looking for something I could finish in one to two sittings, so I'd at least have *something* done.

Writing drabble is an excellent way to practice your editing skills.  Why?  If you're like me, your first draft (and your second, and your third, and your fourth) will be way over the 100-word limit.  To get your story down to 100 words, you have to look at each and every single word.  Does it belong?  What does it do?  Can one word work where you've got several?  How much can you cut and still keep the essence of the story?  What is the essence of the story, anyway?

More interesting, at least to the grammar geek in me, is that writing in such a short form forces you to interact, on a very intimate level, with the words on the page, and with their underlying structure and function.  You end up engaging with your work so closely that you'll learn a lot about how you write and the types of things (whether literary conventions, words, or phrases) that frequently occur within your writing.  Regardless, I think it's an excellent exercise to expand your editing horizons.  Telling a story in 100 words, exactly, is harder than it looks.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Apparently, I'm technologically challenged

It's coming up on the end of spring grant writing season, which means I've been *very* busy over the last several weeks.  Believe it or not, I had posts scheduled for each week ... but apparently I can't count or something, as I somehow managed to schedule everything for 2014, not 2013.  *sigh*

On another note, I'm currently fighting with my computer, a bare two months old, which has decided it needs to use 87% of its available RAM every time I turn it on.  I'm busy tweaking, but am getting rather irritated with the whole thing.

My point, here, is that I've been sucked into the technology vortex once again.  Don't get me wrong, as I love the tools that technology gives writers, but I sometimes think we spend too much time fussing with the tools, and not enough time writing. 

So this afternoon, while my computer's chewing away at a complete system scan and defrag, I'll be taking a pad of yellow legal paper, an HB pencil, a sharpener, and a good eraser outside with me so I can do some writing the old fashioned way. 

I'll sort through my scheduled posts tomorrow, but for the moment I'm off to do some writing.