Writing Archives – Page 4 of 6

Pulling Words Apart to Smash Writing Together

Constance December 1, 2020 December 1, 2020 Essay / Writing

I’ve been largely silent for a while from having a whole lot of editing on my plate. 2 novels and a chapbook of mine, things from other people, working on Gyroscope Review and the Press. Good thing I like editing. As much fun writing a new novel is, I really get into the flow when I settle in to edit. Multiple passes with multiple purposes. Right now, I’m eradicating weasel words from my novels. You know, words like “that” and “just” and “be able”, baggage words adding little to your prose because they’re part of our everyday speech and sneaky as hell.

Editing the novels also helps me edit poetry. The same thing happens there, lazy, non-freight bearing words creep in and somehow duck, dodge, and evade the editor’s knife. I’ve resorted to spacing poem lines 3-4 spaces (or more) apart, so I can only see one line at a time. It helps me find the bumpy places. It also forces me to think about what form I want the poem to take when it has no form at the moment. And still, unneeded words evade me. It’s nice when my writer’s group sees the problems in my blank spots. Then I can go about fixing them. The recommendations aren’t always in line with my vision, but they provide excellent ideas for revision.

I have a habit of not letting my work out to beta readers until it’s mostly done. I know you are supposed to get novels out to beta readers sooner, in case of plot holes, but I want my work as tight as I can get it before flinging it into the world. Then, if a plot hole needs to be patched, the whole novel is fresh in my mind and I can (usually) backfill and spackle over fairly easily. I know this method will probably come back and bit me in the butt someday. Most things do.

Trying Something New

It’s why I’ve come around to doing better outlines. Previous outlines have consisted of paragraphs of “this happens, then this, then this” and 10,000 words of backstory to help me find my way. I like my method and it works for me, but I see where a bit more stringent outlining will speed things along. I have an outline for editing. A checklist of stuff to evaluate and correct. Like weasel words. I’ve made one for editing poetry also, trying to address my blind spots. It’s a good method to try.

I know a lot of writers who only tolerate the editing stage of writing. I like editing, I think it comes from being an artist. I love the process, I’m a process person, not a project person. (Which doesn’t bode well for novel endings. Alas.) Teach me something new, and I’ll happily spend time puzzling it out. That’s what editing is to me, a great, big puzzle, or the boss level of a video game. What is editing like for you? I’m curious about other people’s methods—poetry, essay, or novel. What gets your editing brain in gear? Any advice?

Advice Paralysis

Constance April 12, 2020 April 15, 2020 Essay / Writing

How’s your writing going? How’s your quarantine going? How are you doing today?

I finally identified my current writing problem. Instruction fatigue that leads to paralysis. I’m editing a novel as I try to write more poetry. I’m using search and replace to search and destroy insidious words. Good advice I read somewhere. Normally, I would embrace what I can use, discard the rest. I enjoy helpful advice.

Usually.

Since all the writers are stuck at home, advice is gushing out to blogs and writing sites like water from a fire hose. Everyone has the time to advise right now. “Write All The Things!” Advice flies at me every time I open my email or browse to my favorite sites. At first, it seemed good. I gulped the gushing water. Then I tried to apply it to my own work. That’s when I choked. Contradictions rattled in my brain. Do this, not that. Do that, not this. Write, no, write more. Wear a mask. Wear two masks. Wrap duct tape around your face and wear a welding shield. Don’t touch your face. Don’t touch anything. Don’t breathe, it’s safer. But despite that, write.

Tons of articles appeared on how to use this stay at home time to your advantage, most of them exhorting you to not waste time and get that Great American Novel (or Poem) in the works. Sort of NaNoWriMo, the Pandemic Version. It can guilt-trip people frozen in place by everyday fears—money, food, rent, worry about loved ones. The numbered “C” that has replaced the Big C. Getting through the day seems more important than getting Sylvia out of the murder house and on the run for her life.

It’s a dystopian novel that sprung to life. Kudos to those who can keep plugging on despite the looming end of the world as we know it. (Too much?) I struggle to do any real editing of my novel, other than nit-picky stuff—eradicating weasel words like “that” and “would”. My poetry has undertones of despair. Even a poem about a flower ends with its death. I’m afraid to edit previous work because of this. I’m trying to pull up my bootstraps and accept writing isn’t coming from a happy place right now.

I don’t want to journal. Meditating is not the answer to all problems. Hurtling an asteroid into Earth seems like a good place to end a sci-fi novel.

Must Not Give In To Annihilating Humanity.

Find inspiration where you can. Don’t worry if you can’t.

That’s all I’ve got right now. I venture out the door to my “essential” (sacrificial) job with the public that leaves me fearful I’ve caught coronavirus every time I leave at five. That I’ve brought it home to my family. Writing needs to be a safe space. Not swallowing the fire hose of advice is now refuge from my tendency to beat myself up over not producing more, since I’m stuck in the house when I’m not at work.

Advice is a sign of the times. It’s a cozy blanket fort offered up as salve to our burning fears. It wants to distract us from the underlying terror that something bad is going to happen and we’re helpless to stop it. I like to be in control of my world and damn it, the world is spinning out of control. I’m embracing the paralysis by easing away from social media and the news. I’m baking bread. Writing ideas in a notebook with my favorite pen. Petting the dog. Reading everything I can get my hands on. Paralysis retreats inch by inch. By the weekend, I’m ready to write again and send my plaintive “How are you doing today?” out into the world once more.

Revising 101 (Housekeeping)

Constance September 28, 2019 December 31, 2019 Essay / Writing

The most important thing to revision? Buy lots of ink cartridges and printer paper. You might be tempted to skip this step. Don’t. This applies to both novels and poetry. Print that sucker out. I know, I know, it seems like a PITA to use all that ink and paper on something you just know is perfection.

Trust me, it’s not. Errors are insidious, from little things like the word ‘out’ instead of ‘our’. Hard to spot. Or transposed letters because your eyes crossed when reading that particular section. Or words just flat missing. My favorite in my work is prepositions that go AWOL. Those suckers scatter like roaches when you turn on the light.

Go Big or Go Home

The advice I scoffed at—at first—was to change the font of the work to something totally different, and enlarge. So I changed from Times New Roman to Arial. To Calibri. I still missed things. But when I changed it to Comic Sans 14 point. Oh, My. Errors stood out with big flashing signs. “You screwed up here! Notice me! (Pick the ugly font of your choice. It works.)

It takes a lot of paper to do this. I could use my novel as a doorstop. Or a firestarter. Somedays, it’s Burn, Baby, Burn first and foremost in my brain. Oh, and paperclip every chapter together. Or bull clip it, or put in separate labeled file folders in a drawer. Because when you drop it—and you will—frantic sobbing won’t put things back in order. Neither will the cat that chooses that moment to walk over it and sharpen his claws on stray sheets.

If you hole punch after editing each page and put it in a binder, make sure you empty your hole punch sooner rather than later. Because if you accidentally knock the tray off, little white circles go everywhere. You’ll be finding them for months. They defeat the suckiest of vacuum cleaners. You could always sprinkle catnip over it, and hope your static-y cat rolls in them and picks a bunch up. Then you can vacuum the cat.

Let me know how that works out.

What are your housekeeping revision tips?

Poetry Submissions for the Rest of Us

Constance September 2, 2019 September 2, 2019 Essay / Writing

So, I’ve been reading submission guidelines while I search for places to home my poetry. A lot of them leave me scratching my head.

“We want poetry that makes our heart go POW and our head pop off the stem of our neck spouting blood like a geyser. We want work that zings our strings and causes a rabid dog to bay at the moon. Send us work that has the diversity of fungal infected wildflowers and the factory installed parts of a slightly used car. Come whiffling through the tulgey wood, and burble as you come, with thematic intent.”

WTF?

All I really want to know is whether the magazine wants free verse, forms, more traditional, prose poems, experimental, or political. Do they consider rhyming poetry? Non-traditional? Edgy? Short? Long? Tattooed on your left hand? How can you tailor your work to the magazine when you can’t decipher the code? Back issues don’t always help.

I’ll take utterly clueless for $500, Alex.

Maybe my poetry magazine to poet translator is busted.

Maybe I’m getting old.

Maybe I should stick to writing fantasy.

Maybe I just throw my poetry at the submissions wall and see what sticks. Yep, I like this option.

(And when I do find a place for my work)—

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

She chortled in her joy.

Trying Something New

Some of my other essays on editing:

Here are some outside links to articles on weasel words in writing

Outside Links to Editing:

Find inspiration where you can. Don’t worry if you can’t.

Go Big or Go Home