Tag Archives: editing

An R-rated Post about Editing

26 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by in books, humor, writing

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Fair Warning: this post is nasty. If you like your editing like you like your Cards Against Humanity, then you’ve found your people.

I’ve often said my critique group (Lovingly referred to as the YA Cannibals) is my church. They’re my support group for all things writing. When I’m losiwriteng faith in the nebulous world of publishing, I lean on them. They accept me “just as I am,” but not my writing just as it is. No. They forgive it for it’s sins, but demand a more faithful offering the next time around. And occasionally, Instead of telling me, “This line is boring,” or “This section isn’t moving the plot along,” etc., Rob shows me that I’ve got some work to do. Rob takes the cardinal rule of writing very seriously.

One result is that most of the sentences or events surrounding the edits have changed in my manuscript, if not exactly as Rob suggests. Another result is: I’ll never see my sweet characters the same again.

Sidebar: Rob’s writing is truly excellent and if you’re into zombies, you should definitely read his zombie books, All Together Now and All Right Now.

Here’s a preliminary pitch for what the book is about (You may have seen a different pitch on the blog earlier, but the book has since changed a bit): 

Tam’s never felt at home with the way her parents examine her life under a microscope–sometimes literally. But that’s okay, because Tam, Carl, and Imogen have been their own nation, under God, indivisible with predictability and friendship for all ever since their moms met at a fertility clinic 18 years ago. But when Tam’s Golden Retriever, Honey, viciously attacks Imogen leaving her entangled in physical and emotional scars from what seemed to be a freak incident, Imogen becomes distant. And Carl and Tam become closer as they uncover the sinister truth behind Honey’s attack–a truth about cloning that not only threatens the lifelong friendship, but may threaten their identities and even their lives.

And now, Rob’s edits:

  • She clawed at Imogen’s thighs vagina, her head jerking back and forth, trying to rip through Imogen’s jeans.
  • Her hair and face were sticky with sweat. She covered my eyes vagina.
  • Mom took her hand off my eyes vagina. “Tam, call an ambulance.”
  • “James,” Mom said as she pressed her other hand against Imogen’s leg vagina, “We need to stop the bleeding.
  • I forced myself up and hurried, still shaking, to the kitchen where I’d left my phone in my backpack vagina.
  • Dad was crouched down next to them with his head cradled in his head vagina, breathing hard.
  • So I sat with Mom, head and eyes down, trying to ignore the hospital vagina smell and the intensity of all the other people waiting for their loved ones.  
  • She put her arm around me and kissed the top of my head vagina.
  • My foot vagina was bouncing my leg up and down.
  • I didn’t know if Mom was cursing because of what I said about Honey or because Imogen’s mom was walking toward us so fast that her lavender, oversized vagina scrubs were was sticking to her like a flag caught on it pole.
  • He always jammed his hand in his hair vagina and tugged at it a little when he was stressed.
  • Carl stuck his hand in his windblown vagina hair.
  • Carl’s shirt vagina was wrinkled, smudged, and wet from where I’d had my face all over it.
  • But as I watched Officer Greene come closer, (vagina) lips tightened across his rectangular face, I suspected that protective sentiment wasn’t true of pets gone wild.
  • I clenched my jaw vagina to keep from saying anything else.
  • I squeezed my eyes vagina shut like it could turn off the valve that released the urge to cry.
  • I stretched my calves vagina and quads, and set off down the dirt road.
  • I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up to light knocking on my door vagina.
  • My hand went over my mouth vagina like Mom’s did when she didn’t know what else to say or do.
  • Her favorite coffee mug sat empty next to her—the one that said, “vaginas women who behave, rarely make history.”
  • Mom pursed her lips vagina.
  • The children seem to love baking, and I am pleased to watch them work together to fill gaps in their development, giving them the best chance for a brain vagina that’s healthy and strong.
  • I missed his new sweater and his shirt and tie when I caught a whiff of his hoodie vagina as he took his seat, but forest green was a good color on him.
  • When I got home from school, Mom was snacking on popcorn vagina at the kitchen island.
  • “You’re fussing with the piping on the couch and your foot vagina is bouncing up and down like you’re revving up to run out of here.”
  • “Horse and Buggy Wet Bottom Shoe Fly vagina Pie,” Carl said.
  • “Thanks,” he said, twitching his nose vagina and regaining his personal space.
  • “I know. But it would explain … Sugar’s records vagina.”
  • He licked his lips and rubbed his hands on his thighs. Sweaty palms vagina I presumed.
  • “And it must have been scary and painful as hell to have a dog’s rage vagina like … on you.”
  • My stomach vagina felt gross.
  • He rubbed my shoulders vagina up and down.
  • He wore a polo tucked into tight jeans that were bulging with vagina technology, keys, and his wallet.
  • My hand crept up his chest vagina and around his neck and he put his hand in my hair vagina nervously.
  • I slapped my hand vagina down on the table. “NO ONE is a third wheel. Got it?”
  • I was drumming my fingers against my thigh vagina.
  • Dad swept Imogen’s long hair away from her face and rocked her, his bearded chin resting on top of her head vagina.
  • I groaned, my vagina stomach turning to frenzied sort of sludge.
  • His arm wrapped vagina’d around me.
  • I felt my vagina jaw clenching.
  • “Too late for that. She just caught you red-vagina-ed handed.”
  • I’d found his weak spot, so I lingered, tracing my tongue along the edge of his soft, cool ear vagina.
  • “A hooded vagina rat?” he asked.
  • He had four wrinkles in his forehead vagina. He was sweaty.
  • Before Mom could answer, another cop was in my face vagina.
  • He was an older black man with graying hair shaved close to his face vagina.
  • Her voice vagina caught in her throat.
  • My voice vagina was all jammed up in my throat.

 

Writing Breakthrough. I Think.

13 Wednesday Jul 2011

Posted by in books, insecurity, writing

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Writing is weird because its just downright hard to judge your work sometimes. Writing friends, you know what I mean. You look at someone’s work and know they need to cut a character because it’s serving the same purpose as another. But when they say that to you, it’s like, oh. Huh. I didn’t see that. And then when you do see it, you’re like, well, there it is. Even if someone tells you to try and fix it by adding a character with different traits, you may not be sure what traits to add that would actually improve your book.

Well, I’ve been going through this thing in my manuscript where I can see clearly the action plot of my story, but the emotional story, while there, was just not working. And its been this THING that’s been hovering over me because I wasn’t sure how or even IF I could fix it. It’s like knowing you’re weak in drawing, and wondering if its just something people are born knowing how to do, or if its learn-able. Creating empathy is I’d venture to say, like the art of the book. Prose, maybe. It seems more like costume to me. I can love it, but can I be moved by prose alone? I don’t think so. Maybe though. I won’t rule that out; I’m not actually all that well-read. But empathy was my biggest problem. And it felt like the worst problem to have. And I suspected it was because of character development.

So, I did this thing I said I’d never do. I did a character worksheet. It’s like D&D for writers. In my head, every time someone at a conference said, DO A CHARACTER WORKSHEET, I would envision a half-elf with purple eyes who turned red when danger was near. I’d roll the dice to find he had a constitution of 12, but a charisma of 4. And I was like, fuck no. So, I must have been feeling desperate, right? A little bit. But, the reason I did the worksheets was because of Cheryl Klein’s book, Second Sight. I’m naturally attracted to books she edits. And the way she speaks about writing and editing resonates with me, so when she said in her book to do a character worksheet, I swallowed my pride and trusted her. The whats and whys that the worksheet brought out in my characters were insightful and surprising. But I still had to figure out how they’d get to the actual pages.

When I did that, I was like, huh, I wonder if this worked. I was really hoping for an AHA! Like maybe Cheryl had this second sight, but I obviously still didn’t. So, I took some revisions to the critique group, and guess what. The revisions worked. My favorite part was when Virginia said something like, “I don’t know why I feel so much more now, but I do.” And then Lisa was like, “I loooooooooooved the rewrite.” And Mike was like, “Where’s the cannibalism?” Just kidding, Mike didn’t say that (to me). He said the flashbacks worked well, and I’m super-insecure about writing flashbacks, so that made me happy.

So, with my ego all inflated, I’ve found the courage to tell you all to DO CHARACTER WORKSHEETS. But do them Cheryl Klein style. What’s especially great about her book is that it focuses on writing and editing picture books and young adult books. And there’s more in there than character worksheets, so if you can’t bring yourself to do them, still read the book.

 

Story of A Story

20 Tuesday Oct 2009

Posted by in writing

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red pen I should have found a photo of a green pen in honor of Mrs. Shields. One of my humanities professors used to correct all our papers in green pen because “green means go.” She’s quite possibly the most optimistic person I ever met.

Today is National Day On Writing. So I thought I’d trace the story of my book thus far. Hopefully it will be a Wow-look-how-far-you’ve-come kind of thing instead of a you’re-still-at-it? kind of thing. I’m bad with keeping track of time so forgive me that.

Back in 2003ish Josh had a business trip back to CA and I got to go along. No kiddos!  It was the first time. I’d been writing a young adult novel that just wasn’t going anywhere. I decided to start a fresh one. I took a notebook to the beach and wrote every day for the whole week. It was very hard because pen on paper was not my thing. I’m more of a delete and ctrl+z kind of girl. So, actual writing forced me to finish a draft. A really shitty draft. There were four mediocre characters and a big rock. Awesome story, right? By the time I got home, I disliked one character so much that I killed her. I needed a new one, one that wasn’t a typical high school stereotype. It dawned me that I had ROTC experience and that might be a unique character.

Three years later, my critique group had helped me build a nice high school book with a Rotcee girl. I showed it to agent. Comment: “This is a pleasant read.” But why did I have a rotcee girl if she’s not going to to go into the military? In my head: Because that sounds like a lot of research. But good Lord, “pleasant read?” That wouldn’t do! She knew how to incite change in me.

So, I considered what would happen if my girl enlisted. I did the research. I wrote and rewrote. My critique group held my hand and pushed me along. Another year later, I showed another agent. To my surprise, I heard words I’d never heard before: “I loved it.” People in the writing business actually say this! If you are unpublished, these words are out there, and they will be said to you. Believe it.

I’m still revising because “I loved it” doesn’t mean “It’s ready.” I’m thankful to be working with someone who is so dedicated to getting it polished ahead of time. Learning the details of boot camp was a lot easier than making my character face difficulty, especially when her values began to drift from mine. But one of my favorite things so far about writing is when my agent says something about the manuscript and I think, “Huh.” Because I know I’m about to make a better story.

Andrew Karre said something once that was fantastic advice. He said, when you finish your book and before you land an agent or an editor, go celebrate that it’s done. It will never be yours again. I’m so glad to have heard those words. It made me appreciate the changes that were to come once I got an agent. They have been many, but they have been great.