How to Make Boring Editing Fun

Admit it.  99.99999% of writers hate editing our work.  But its necessary 100% of the time.

If you follow my Twitter, I recently bemoaned the fact that I realized I needed to change my entire novel to first person POV. 

I was dreading the work.  It was enough brain-numbing work to sit down and just edit my old chapters for consistency, plot, character, big picture questions, etc. etc.  Now I would have to go through and recheck/change every single pronoun and verb TOO?! 

Needless to say, I was doing my writer whining.  I tried the "Find and Replace" feature (word to the wise, it doesn't work).  I tried just skimming and changing each pronoun and verb.  That didn't work either.  I would miss ones and some sentences would just not sound right.

So, I printed out my old draft and began retyping into a new Word document.  I would see the sentence, "She ran through the castle," and type, "I ran through the castle."  It seems the long-way to do it, but it was much better.  Here are the reasons why:

Beginnings

I have been slowly picking away at the first edit of my novel. (Editing is such a daunting task.)  Today, I was working on the first chapter.  (No pressure!  First chapter!)  Setting the stage is so important for a story.  It's like the thesis of an essay.  What you say in the beginning dictates what the rest of the novel is going to be about.  Lots of times, it points to the path that your protagonist is going to have to conquer in the story.

You see, story is a lot like this diagram (very crudely drawn with Microsoft Paint) that my professor always drew in class or in crayon on the back of my manuscripts:

The black line is the trajectory of a character's life.  The yellow line is impact from an outside source.  The impact causes the trajectory of the character's life to change to some degree, however big or small.  In order to tell a story, you must first explain what the original trajectory of a character's life would have been.  Otherwise, the reader cannot understand the magnitude/importance/degree to which the character's life was shifted.  Story is explaining the "before", showing the outside source impacting the life, and showing the results/affects the consequently occur.

Thus my predicament with my first chapter.  It is so crucial to the rest of the story.  No pressure!

The Journey of Writing

I had the rare occasion today to sit and read a physical book for hours while waiting for my car to be serviced. I didn't really like the book that much, but reading always makes me want to write.  Either to produce something better than what I read or to explore characters in the same way I get to explore them as I read.

So, I returned home and sat in front of my laptop to write.  I started on a story that I had been contemplating for some time, and I was immediately disappointed.  In no way was this writing process as enjoyable and easy as reading.  Where was the effortless explosion of character?  Why did I not have a firm grasp on this person's character?  I wanted so badly to enjoy that writer climax in which my fingers are flying across the keys because I know exactly what to write and because I feel so close and intimate with this person I created, like they are my new best friend.

But writing is much like life in this way.  A writer does not normally achieve that sort of euphoric state without effort.  In fact, the effort is what creates the joy.  We find joy because we put in effort.  The relationships with our characters are just like the relationships with those around us: the intimacy must be earned by spending time with them, listening, and putting their needs before your own.  Only then are you truly able to partake in that breathtaking climatic moment of intimacy.

So, even though I feel like giving up on this story because I'm not "feeling it" right away, I'm going to keep on.  Perseverance will yield much in the end.

Day 373

In 373 days or 53 weeks and 2 days, I was able to write 59,992 words in some semi-understandable pattern to create sentences, put those sentences next to each other to make paragraphs, and those paragraphs to make a story.  From March 21, 2010 to March 29, 2011, I labored to write the first draft of my first novel after college.   But I can officially say that I completed the first draft of my novel.

To some, this may seem like an egotistical post, boasting about my accomplishment.  Please know that I am in no way am I proud of what I have written.  Its a mess.  Its not well-written, and I have a lot of work today.  What I am proud of is the dedication that went into completing the project, even if it did take me much longer than it probably should have at roughly 1,000 words a week (which isn't much).

After completing the draft, I stopped and realized that I did not need to write "one more page" so that I would have a place to pick up later.  I anticipated feeling more excited, but at 1am, I was tired and excitement didn't seem the natural response at the moment.  I felt much like I did after I got engaged.  I felt a warm sense of contentment, not a bubbly excitement.  Instead of a scream, it was a sighing moment.

Now, on to the edits!  Going to try and keep an eye on the bigger picture while I edit, but that is so much easier said than done.  Onward, ho!

On Disappearance

Dear invisible, unknown, and probably non-existent readers,

I'm sorry to have disappeared for so long.  I am a Christmas person, and with that, I dive head first into the festivities.  Festivities leave little time for blogging.

Second, I got engaged.  Yes, I got engaged.  It's a pretty big announcement to make on the Internet, it feels like, on an inconsequential blog.  However, it must be stated.  Why?  Well, planning a wedding feels a bit more immediate than writing a novel, right?

But I'm almost done.  I can taste the end.  I don't know what it is yet, but I am so excited to find out.  I feel more like a writer attempting this novel than I ever have before.  Its amazing what putting words on virtual paper can do to your life.  My (now) fiancée doesn't understand, and I don't expect him to.  Dumbing it down to the "sense of accomplishment" is too simplistic, but its not as complex as what it sounds like.  It's just...I'm almost done.

I'm frantically trying to balance wedding planning and getting this first draft done before I get married.  Granted, if I were truly diligent, I would finish the last...say, eight chapters before I get married.  But who knows?  I have no idea how to plan a wedding.  Everyone says its stressful, and I'm sure it is.  Having just gotten started, I haven't really felt that stress yet, but I'm sure it'll blindside me like...well, something big.  Anyway, I'm setting my goal realistically.  I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

So, sparse postings will occur from here on out, and I've given up numbering my days.  I'll calculate it all at the end.  Until next time, have fun.

Sincerely,
Cheryl

Day 193 + some

Sorry...I'm a little lazy today, because I'm supposed to be working on other things than updating this blog.  I was just thinking about how all writing is argumentative or persuasive.  However you want to call it.  I've been working on my message/sermon for this upcoming Sunday (yeah, I know...no pressure, right?) and it sort of dawned on me how writing my message is so much like writing and essay which is so much like writing a business email.  They are all so similar.

So how does writing a young adult/children's novel come into the picture?  Creative writing uses the other end of your brain.  I don't just mean other side, I mean other end.  Its a remote part of the mind that is only really active (I believe) when you are a child unless you make an effort to use it.  Its the imaginative part.  You know, when you'd walk into a playground, see the jungle gym, and see a cave?  Or a pirate ship?  Or a bee hive?  Or when you were given a piece of Playdoh, you'd see the horse, not the lump.

As adults, most of us don't use that part of our brains.  Some adults (inventors, artists, writers, and adults who just haven't grown up) use that "end" of our mind but only on occasion.  How often do we unknowingly tap into that creative energy?  We have to make an effort, strain, suffer headaches in order to get the same out-of-the-box thinking that it would've taken us half a second when we were a child.

Still, creative writing is very persuasive.  Any writing is persuasive.  Either you are trying to persuade your readers that the argument you are saying is the logical stance, or you are trying to prove that this product is better than that product, or that God really wants you to do this rather than that.  OR you are trying to prove that this world that you've created really is a viable, livable world and that the characters are worth the attention and the time of your readers.  And maybe you are just trying to prove that the things these characters learn is something worth noticing.  Maybe, just maybe.

I don't think writing, or anything spoken or written or communicated, is worth the effort unless there is a message to it.  From something as simple as "I am cold right now" to as complex as a political argument or graduate thesis.

What does your communication prove?  Is it idle or is it worth using that side of your brain?

Day 193

I've been working on my book for over half a year!  I just realized.

There has been talk of rings and proposals and change in my life recently.  This past weekend I celebrated my 6th anniversary with my boyfriend, eagerly anticipating a marriage proposal but not getting one (he knew I was expecting it haha).  Having been with my boyfriend for so long, almost a third of my life, it feels strange to be away from him.  When we are not in the same vicinity, I am not as comfortable.  I'm not squirming, but it feels like a part of me is missing.  I feel whole when he's around.

Except when I'm writing.  My boyfriend eeks into all of my male characters, and the way I am around him seems to find its way into all of my female characters.  Somehow every male protagonist has attributes that I admire in him.  Somehow.  I know how, and I know why, but it boggles my mind a little that even when I don't intend to make any of my characters similar to my boyfriend or I, they wind up being that way anyway.

I was talking to him about my novel, describing how I was trying to get my female protagonist to "break" (in that she needs to start changing from who she is to something better).  I was explaining how she is stubborn and set in her ways and that I was struggling with making her "turn" because she was that way.  At this point in the novel, I knew that my male hero was patterned after my dear, having done it on purpose this time, and I was telling him that I needed the prince to help get her to turn.

Then my boyfriend says, "Oh, so she's like you."

It was like a slap in the face.  It was one of those "Duh!" moments where you feel like slapping yourself in the face.  Duh, she's like me.  Stubborn, set in her ways, slightly brainwashed.  Or at least, how I used to be.  I'm not proud of it, but I AM proud to say that I have grown up a lot.  So, pretty much what I found was that my novel was very much a story of myself and my boyfriend while we were in high school.  The characters were almost carbon copies (personality and maturity wise) of our high school selves.

WEIRD!

Sorry.  This revelation was a light bulb epiphany moment for me, and as I continue to write (it having been weeks since my boyfriend and I had this conversation), it surprises me that I did not notice it before.  Its so blatantly obvious now, of course.

Day 177

I have been writing my novel for almost 6 months.  Wow.  That feels both short and long at at the same time.  An accomplishment in time, but a failure in work produced.

Today, I want to write to support public libraries.  I'm not on a soap box, but never have I written so much in one week on this novel as I have a week ago.

After Labor Day, I was determined not to spend countless hours in my room goofing off.  My younger sisters had all returned to school at that point and the house is dead quiet.  A bad quiet.  My house is so often full of noise that it has become a normal auditory backdrop, and when absent, I cannot concentrate.

So, I go to the library. Where it is quieter than my house.

I woke up around 10:00am every day (a stark contrast to noon) and drove to the library and wrote until I was hungry for lunch.  I was usually there until 12:30pm.  I was able to concentrate.

It was such a blessing!  I sat in the quiet section at one of the tables, not even in one of the cubbies where you can block yourself out, but at a table, facing the thick tome-like reference books on American History and The History of Drama, and wrote.  I wrote about 5 pages a day, on average, for four days.  I normally write that much in three weeks.

Hooray!

The writing wasn't horrible either.  Even better.

The trick to this was that I practiced my professor's dutiful advice.  Ron Carlson would always say, "Stop writing at a place where you know you can start again."  I have the habit of stopping at the end of a scene or the chapter.  It makes me feel like I have accomplished something.  That week, I stopped writing in the middle of conversations.  I would reach the end of the scene, feel like it was a good place to stop, and tell myself to write one more page.  Then, I would be stuck in the middle of the next scene.  I would stop, come back the next morning, and feel like I was literally "picking up from where I left off."  Amazing.  Funny how simple the advice and how big the effects.

This past week, I was offered a temporary "full-time" position with temporary days off, and I had no time to write.  Such a stark contrast.  I was itching to write all this past week, but stupid 2 hour commutes per day and 8 1/2 hours at work and three scheduled dinner dates and an iTouch with addicting word games led to no productivity.

My fault.

I almost wish I didn't have a job again.  Then I could write.

Day 138

Many of you may know that writers are constantly doing character studies.  We are intrigued by people.  I think that is what makes us want to write.

I am constantly watching people, trying to figure them out from afar (sometimes, even from up close).  At restaurants I'm sitting in the corner booth by myself sometimes, watching people interact.  Coffee shops and bakeries are great for this.  At the mall, at the movie theaters, around the lake.  I am constantly taking small mental notes of how people interact and argue and talk and laugh and cry and smile and add it to this little repertoire of instances.

Facebook is a horrible tool for this.  Horrible not in the sense that its not useful; horrible in the sense that its too useful.  I feel like Facebook: taking advantage of the fact that people post personal information for all to see.  I'm not "stalking" random people, mind you.  Not strangers.  Just old friends.  The type of "friends" that are really just acquaintances but you got to meet once in a lecture or you're old acquaintances from high school.  I look at their walls, their photos and try to get a sense of where they are, what they've been doing with their lives since we last talked (which often is years).

One friend in particular has intrigued me since high school.  She is the epitome of perfection for most people.  She's gorgeous, she's smart, she's super nice, (and as a result, she's super popular), she's community service oriented, she's well-dressed but not slutty, she's Christian, and she seems to have a very high future waiting for her.  I look at her pictures and not only feel jealous at her easy beauty (there are just some people who are blessed with looks) but wonder if she is as perfect as she appears.  What does she struggle with?  What does she long for?  What makes her angry?  I've never seen her lose her composure or get frustrated with someone.  She's not even stuck-up or vain like you would expect.

Not to mention, how in the world do you get a person like this?

There has got to be something to her, but there is no reason that I would ever have to contact her.  There is no way for me to find out.  On top of that, most of her Facebook pictures are posted by other people; she doesn't spend much time on Facebook.  I glean information from the wealth of her friends who dote on her.

She epitomizes the ideal for me, but in my mind, I'm thinking, "There has got to be something wrong with her."  But no, even the large scar on her arm she got for a horseback riding incident can't even taint her beauty.

Is this weird?  Probably.  Somewhat stalkerish, I know.  My intrigue for her befuddles me sometimes too.  I think it is just because she is a character that I don't understand.  There are so many other people that I can watch and make assumptions about that have a large possibility of being true.  But for this one female acquaintance from high school, I have little assumptions I can make on good measure.

If you ever figure someone like this person out, let me know.

Day 127

Dear anonymous readers of the Internet,

I apologize for the two month absence.  It is horrid, to be sure.  Since I last posted, I've gotten laid off from my job and had a flurry of work-related drama.  Nothing much to tell, though it may one day work its way into a story.  However, I have been able to concentrate on my writing a bit since I've had more time to think.

I'm 25,000+ words into my story, and I'm worried about length.  One of my favorite adult fiction novels is 53,000 words, give or take, and that novel, while not terribly long, was long enough.  I've read longer children's literature, but I'm just wondering how closely should I watch my word count.

I guess, overall, it does not matter.  I just need to finish the draft.

Getting into the story, I'm realizing how much I need to flesh out my main character.  I find it interesting how of all the characters of my book, I have the smallest grasp on my main character.  She feels hollow to me at this point.  I understand that is probably because I need the most depth from her, but its just disappointing.

No one really understands the "work" of a writer.  I am blessed with a boyfriend who is trying to be understanding, though I know that he does not really understands but just simply gives me my space.  He makes a point to encourage me to write and to keep blocking out the times of my day to write, which is a blessing more magnificent than he knows.  I guess that is the best thing he can do is keep me accountable, because by myself, I am an utter basket case.

Having gotten "half-way" word-count-wise through my novel (although I am less than halfway through the plot), I am beginning to understand this daunting "work" set before me.  I know I have to edit this baby, and I am slightly looking forward to it while simultaneously quite fearful of the task, and I have to finish it first.  The whole idea of the thing is just frightening.  Haha.  My favorite adult fiction novel was rewritten 12 times before it was even sent to an editor.  TWELVE?!  Bah.  I'm doomed.

However, I am Day 127 into writing and 25,000 words and I wrote 4 pages today in 1 hour, which is encouraging to me.  The numbers encourage me.  The words do not, ironically enough.  Sometimes I feel like scrapping this entire thing and starting over.

Anyway, on to another day.  I have to finish this chapter so I can turn it in to my workshop partner by Wednesday.  I'm hoping to get it done before then so I can keep writing onward.

Cheers!

Day 5

I am day five into the writing of my first novel since middle school, and I am starting this blog as a way of motivating myself.  I came into writing this novel with the understanding that it was going to be work, but I still did not know exactly what to expect. 


Having written for my writing professors for so long, it feels sinful to write genre fiction.  Not just genre fiction, young adult genre fiction.  Its even worse.  I read the words I type and know there is no character development, there is no depth, and the writing sounds so much like what I typed in middle school.  Did I learn nothing and just take steps backward?  Reverting to what I loved to do when I was little? 


This is all going through my head when I write, and it makes it difficult to write without confidence.  Confidence in what you are writing makes a big difference.  Also, feeling like you are writing something worthwhile makes a big difference too.  And approximately 9 pages into it, I feel neither.  I'm pushing myself along because I promised I would, but its been tough going so far.  Tomorrow is my second fully open day to write, so we'll see how that goes. 


For now, I am putting myself here for the purpose of keeping to my guns.  A sort of Julia & Julia moment, but without the second Julia.  I'm just writing for the purpose of writing.  Here's to perseverance.

Soli Deo Gloria.