Last week, I told you that I was cutting my 103,000 word novel down to 60,000 words, at my agent’s request. Well–it’s at 54,000 words now.
And I LOVED this editing process. I loved cutting scenes that were not an integral part of the main story. I loved cutting adjectives that did not pull enough weight, phrases that pulled too much weight. My novel is a lean, mean story machine.
In celebration of this accomplishment, I am offering free editing on the blog this week. Post up to 150 words–a paragraph–in the comments below, and I’ll edit it for you, with some notes you can take to the rest of your manuscript.
And then pop back on and tell me what you think. Hate it? Love it? Have any other revision questions? Let’s talk editing!
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Hi, Elizabeth. Slash away! Thanks!
Anne put the Tupperware pan of gingerbread cookies down on the seat next to her and rose. Mary stood before her on the three-foot raised altar above the candles. Her plaster lips were neutral; no encouraging smile was given. Anne had no idea of how she was going to carry Mary. If she were paper mache, maybe, but plaster was heavy, and Mary was tall. In the corner of her heart, Anne hoped that just walking forward would be enough to show she was willing to try the impossible task, and then Mary would laugh and tell her that she really didn’t have to do it—she would help her find Mrs. Black anyway just because Anne showed she was willing to try.
Here is my piece, Elizabeth. Thanks.
He doesn’t do stupid things— he never rushes like I do— but I wish he had done. It would have given me some practice, because when my turn came to forgive, it came hard. I had to peel loose a hundred tentacles of rage that had invaded every organ system and which were embedded in my very cell walls. I did finally free myself, mostly, but it was like walking away from a plane where you have been held hostage so long that your loved ones barely recognize you. There is no way to erase those captive years from your face. They haunt you. Their footprint lingers in between your words. When I did finally shake off my rage, that creature, that monster, I hurled it unceremoniously out the car window and left it lying in a dirty, half-frozen parking lot in Billings.
Janet–This is pretty tight. If I were looking at it with the eye I’ve had on my ms as I hacked away at it, I might cut: “to show she was willing to try the impossible task”– something like this:
“In the corner of her heart, Anne hoped that just walking forward would be enough, and then Mary would laugh and tell her that she really didn’t have to do the impossible task—Mary would help her find Mrs. Black anyway just because Anne had shown she was willing to try.”
A few more questions that might lead to little edits: “three-foot raised altar” — Is the altar raised three feet? Or is the altar three feet in some other sense and also raised?
“Anne had no idea of how she was going to carry Mary.” — Consider putting this into an internal direct voice, i.e How the heck was she going to carry Mary? — You can do this in a third person once you’ve established a POV character.
Thanks for sharing your wonderful work-in-progress!
Lea –I love the voice here, right away. It’s intelligence, it’s clear-eyed self-appraisal. What I would hone in on here is the figurative language. We have a great creature–introduced through the image of the tentacles of rage and returning in the last line as it’s hurled out the window. In between we have some equally cogent and powerful metaphors and similes–being held hostage on a plane, captive years. Not sure how “footprint” quite works with that simile, though I really like it, and then how they and the “haunting” fit with the creature. You do see juxtaposed figurative language in strong and published work, and the strength of your voice does a lot to carry these, but that’s what I would focus on in revision. See if you can marry these tropes.
Thank you for sharing this powerful writing!
This helps. I knew it was a bit of a tangle. What I meant was that while the rage was gone, the imprint of it remained (remains, sigh!). I can be more clear. Thank you. I have to watch out for not only mixing my metaphors, but using too many— I hate to choose!
Hi Elizabeth,
Maybe it’s too late to “play”–I’m behind on emails as I finish novel to send to agent this month. In case you’re still open to seeing a graph, I’m curious to see what editing you might do with this:
Earlier today, she’d seen a light flash from far across the desert. Not from the distant Sandia mountain range, always visible across the valley floor. The light came from strange shimmery mountains looming beyond, which locals couldn’t always see. Only, it seemed, when certain cloud types were there. And not when it was quite so bright as now. Squinting again, Aminta aimed her aunt’s mirror anyway and reflected sun back toward the strange, far away peaks.
Thank you!
Rachel–This is a wonderfully intriguing paragraph. A thought and a question: I have noticed that often if mediation can be cut, the prose gets stronger. Here you begin, “Earlier today, she’d seen . . .” I would love to see her situated–where is she standing or sitting or whatever? What is she doing? This might just be a word or two. And then, since we are in her close POV, the next sentence can just say: A light flashed from far across the desert. This moves the verb from “seen” to “flashed”–more sensate and exciting. My question: The idea that locals couldn’t always see the mountains confused me: is this like when natives who’d never seen a ship couldn’t “see” a giant ship on the horizon? Or is this intended to mean that the mountains are not always visible from the town or settlement or city or whatever, whether to locals or to visitors. This is probably a question resulting from reading only one paragraph, and it might also be a reader’s question–a question that will pull the reader through the story rather than a question that indicates a problem for the writer to address. But I always like to ask my questions when they arise. And it might be a place to focus editorial attention: ” . . . which locals couldn’t always see. Only, it seemed, when certain cloud types were there.” This is the weakest part of a strong paragraph. “were there” could be made stronger. The repetition of the word “strange” may be intentional, as there is a sense of mystery growing here. But it might also represent an opportunity to find an additional, more descriptive word . . . Hope this helps! I am already a fan of this book from one paragraph.
Elizabeth,
Thank you, this is so nuance and deep and rich. I am so grateful to see how you edit a paragraph. And what a tough task that is, not knowing any more context for a story and the characters.
I am going to work with your feedback in the next couple of days.
I’ve shared info of your blog and classes with a few other writer friends too!
Thank you again!
Rachel