Writing and Editing Advice from the Greats

The amazing Margaret Madigan and I recently finished a first draft of a novel we're writing together. I love the characters, and the story line. Unfortunately, I don't love editing, and I'm guessing that I'm not alone.

The beautiful feeling of "I'm finally finished" gives way to the depression that comes when you review the writing. The "I suck" blues set in.

That's when I remind myself that "the first draft of everything is shit." Ernest Hemingway said so, after all.

If that doesn't make me feel better, I remember another of Hemingway's little maxims: "Write drunk, edit sober." Sadly, sober editing doesn't make me feel any better, so I chuck Hemingway out and look for a great writer whose advice I might like better.

Terry Pratchett reminds me to “Let grammar, punctuation, and spelling into your life! Even the most energetic and wonderful mess has to be turned into sentences.” 

Apparently no one is about to let me off the editing hook. Even Joyce Carol Oates has something to say about my editing. "The first sentence can't be written, until the final sentence is written."

Fine. I give up. I'm off to edit. 

Dealing With Negativity

Dealing with Negativity

(From the people whose opinions you actually care about)

I can’t tell you how many book dedications I’ve read where writers thank their family for putting up with them while they were in the throes of writing their book, their kids eating peanut butter sandwiches so mommy can keep writing and so on and so forth.

I think that’s wonderful. I also wonder (with a certain feeling of shame for doubting their veracity) whether their families really were as supportive as all that. 

Because mine is not.

My kids don’t care whether or not I’m trying to squeeze out time to write a book. They want dinner, and help with homework, they want clean plates to eat off and clean clothes to wear. Books be damned, they want mommy dates and snuggle time. My boy wants a chance to work through how some kids at school called him stupid because he has autism and is hyper-focused on Elvis, the king of rock and roll this month, and Elvis is Not Cool. My girl wants a chance to talk over how some little girl was her friend last week and this week hates her and is hanging out with some other little girl.

This is life-shattering stuff for them folks.

Then there’s my husband who thinks its all a waste of time, that I’ll never finish any of it, (except I did) and even if I do, I’ll never make any money off of it (probably true) so why not focus on something that actually brings in a living wage. Of course, I already make a living wage a different way, so then writing in his mind is a hobby. And hobbies shouldn’t take away from snuggle time and eating chips in bed while watching Supernatural with him, from doing “my Fair Share” of paperwork and dealing with crap all adults have to do but never want to like incorrect bills and disputes about who is responsible for replacing the air conditioning system. Hobbies are for doing in free time.

And you know what? They have a point.

Writing is a huge time suck. And my kids deserve all those things they need. My husband shouldn’t have to deal with all the crap of life because I want to—let me rephrase that—I need to write.

I get it. 

But I don’t get “free time.”  I’m not even sure I believe in this mythical thing  people call Free Time.

Any time I have is stolen--I get it by not doing something else I should be doing.

So how do you avoid this kind of negativity from the people whose opinions you actually care about: your close friends and family?  And if you can’t avoid it, how do you deal with it?

The question isn’t rhetorical folks.

I have no idea what the answer is.  I would have liked to quote that biblical verse about how a prophet isn’t respected in their hometown. But lets face it—I’m no prophet. Probably you aren’t either.  And to be fair, these people in our lives have a valid point. So what do we do?

For now, my answer is to try to prioritize. I try to meet my family’s needs as best I can (and buy paper plates so I spend less time doing dishes.) 

(Sorry Earth.) 

I cut writing time out of sleep time and reading time.  I deny myself so that I don’t have to deny them.

It means everything comes so much slower writing wise.

It means I’m tired a lot.

It means sometimes writing feels like a chore, not a joy.

But the words still come.

What do you guys do? Is there a better way?

Find Your Passion, Write your Story

Today, I want to talk about how we as writers choose the stories we write, why we choose the way we do, and propose that we consider choosing our stories with passion in mind.

One of the things I love to ask fellow writers is how they began writing, and what they wrote at first. I am interested in how they got into the writing habit, and even why they chose the stories they did at first, but what I love most about those conversations is the joy that writers almost glow with, when they remember those first stories. 

These writers often have several things in common when talking about the stories. You can tell, just from the way they talk about them, that they loved these stories. Even though most are sitting in a drawer or stashed under a bed, they still love these stories. And do you know what? It comes through in the way they talk about them. 

One of the other things I've noticed, both in myself and in the writers I harass with questions about their writing, is that they often don't feel the same kind of passion for their later work. Today, I want to make some educated guesses as to why that is, and ask the question, well is that so bad?

There are quite a few reasons why I think the love for the story you see in first works can fade as a writer gains experience, but primarily I think it can be attributed to a single reason. 

We stop writing what we are passionate about.

There are a few reasons people stop writing about what flares their interest, about the things they love, or hate, or feel like matter most. 

Sometimes writers leave what they love to follow trends. They'll read that fantasy, or regency romance, or space operas are out. And so even though they have a wonderful story they love that falls into one of those genres, they put it off to write straight romance. There's nothing wrong with that, if you have a straight romance story you're passionate about telling. But if you don't, well forcing yourself to write something that you don't care about may not be the best idea. 

If you've been writing for very long, and have hung out with other folks in the writing game,another reason people leave off writing the stories they love probably became very apparent very quickly. 

There can be a class system in the the writing world. 

Well--several class systems actually, but the one I want to touch on today (in addition to other issues) is literary v. genre. The effects this class distinction has on writers--especially  genre authors can be very dampening. 

The message often comes across that genre authors are not real authors, and their books are looked down on as not real books. As incredible as that sounds, it tends to be prevalent in the industry. Far greater communicators than I have written essays and blogs and letters to the editor in defense of genre fiction, and they did a fine job. But the class distinction still exists, and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere. 

Not long age I attended a GENRE writing conference, (Romance) and heard a well known literary agent tell a romance publisher (in front of an entire room of romance authors) that she didn't publish REAL books. 

Because, apparently, romance books aren't REAL. 

I was floored, but sadly, that attitude is not unusual, and can make genre writers ashamed of writing what they're passionate about, or feel that they need to pursue more literary writing even though that isn't where their passion lies. 

This second reason feeds into the third reason. 

Fear.

When a writer is passionate about the story they are writing, be it lit fic or spaceships, or vampires or zombies, they are opening themselves up where it counts. 

Where they're vulnerable. 

And fear can be a very powerful reason for us to set aside the passion, the stories that matter, because if they fail, or get bad reviews, or God forbid--no reviews, well that failure would hurt so much worse than if we didn't open ourselves up. 

So why do it? Why open yourself up to that sort of vulnerabilty as a writer? Why is passion important in writing anyway? 

Because your passion comes through in your writing and readers can tell. 

If you don't love your story, neither will they. 

I know we've all read books where the writing wasn't amazing, but despite that, the author managed to pull in millions of readers and make them sigh and weep and care for their characters. And we've all asked the question how? 

How is it that this poorly written book has so many people fangirling over it?

Passion.

The author was passionate about the story, and it came through on the pages. It sucked us readers in because when we read we are searching for that passion for the characters and their stories. 

The converse is true for well written, well edited books that we want to love and read hoping all the way through that the attachment will happen (anytime now.) 

It never does and we end the book feeling underwhelmed and a little cheated. Without passion, that connection is less likely to happen.

Don't misunderstand me. 

Good writing is important. 

Good editing is important. 

Good formatting is important. 

But without passion, the story is flat. 

That's because writing, formatting, editing are just vehicles for the story. 

Passion is the point of the story. 

In Defense of Hope

At my day job, I represent the Department of Family and Protective Services in cases involving abused and neglected children. Lately, my job has been harder than usual.

We see terrible cases, terrible facts, facts where it’s almost impossible to believe that one human being could treat another that way, never mind an adult treating a vulnerable child they should be protecting in that way. And lately, the after-effects of that severe abuse has been in-your-face apparent in my cases. 

It’s heartbreaking.

It makes it hard to go on, to keep fighting and trying the cases, when by the time I get to fight for these kids, the damage is already done. 

And sometimes that damage seems irreparable.

Don’t misunderstand me. 

We slap on the bandages, and the tourniquets. We have hospitals for the malnutrition and broken bones. We try counseling, and residential treatment centers, medications, and group therapy for the psychological wounds. We find new, loving families for these children who have never experienced that simple right.

But sometimes, (more often than I can bear lately) it seems that no matter what we do, no matter how much plaster we slap on the cracks of the psyche, we can’t heal these kids. We can’t shore up the injuries they’ve already experienced. We run out of options, we run out of ideas, and so we just keep plastering over the cracks as they appear—suicide attempts=a stint in the state hospital, self harm = medication tweaks and more counseling, perpetrating the abuse they experienced against other kids in the new home = removal and counseling for everyone ad nauseum.

But these children deserve the effort, no matter how hopeless it seems. 

And sometimes, against all odds, they eventually heal. They find a way to live fully, to be happy, to recognize the wrongs that were done and somehow move beyond. 

That’s why I keep fighting beyond what I think I can bear, bucket of plaster and trowel in hand.

So how does this relate to writing? 

It has to, right? 

After all, this is a writing blog.

It’s simple. 

Sometimes, I feel like my stories are children. 

And sometimes, I feel like I’ve performed a disservice in writing those stories, that they’re flawed and riddled with cracks. The black moment is misplaced, the characters aren’t fully rounded, the writing is simple crap. 

Sometimes, I’m right, and I want to give up on the difficult stories, to shove them into that desk drawer we all have for hiding things we don’t want to deal with because they’re to hard to fix.

But these are my stories. They are an expression of the unique way I see the world, and because of that, they matter.  Your stories matter just as much. And really, stories are easier to fix than most things in life. We have all the tools. We have communities of wonderful writers willing to brainstorm, and spitball and beta read and help in every way they can. 

So I challenge you to drag out the story you’ve stashed. Pull out your mortar and your trowel and start fixing the cracks. Choose hope that you can make that story shine and get to work.

Your story deserves it.