Should I Edit As I Go?

As I’ve already covered that I think really it’s a bad idea, mostly for your creative flow. This post will try to convince you that editing in the midst of creating a narrative can actually be harmful to the storyline.

Yes, yes, I know some famous authors are well-known for polishing every word until it shines before they go onto the next. Alistair MacLeod, of No Great Mischief, was one.

If you are focused primarily on the beauty of the language you use, then pausing and reflecting over every word may serve you well. But if your intent is primarily to tell a good story, editing as you go can almost literally stop you in your tracks.

Why shouldn’t I edit as I’m writing?

So here’s the thing.

I am sure that you have found yourself in a creative fog, immersed in the story you’re creating. You may not be totally sure where you’re going but it’s exciting and you’re exploring its possibilities. Wonderful. But say you suddenly stop and ask yourself, “Is that the correct spelling? Is it the word I really need? You look it up.

I think you’ll find that when you’re sure that the word is correct, the fog has dissipated and excitement gone. You may continue writing but the spark has disappeared.

Makes sense. Here you are, all in your right brain, reveling in the creativity and suddenly the left brain kicks in with its analysis and, unfortunately, criticism. You need both hemispheres to operate to turn out a good piece of writing. Just not both at the same time.

Don’t edit as you go along

The problem is that the right brain seems more timid, more easily chased away than the left. The left is always ready to jump in to point out an extra word, a confusion in pronouns, or a clunky phrase. Think of it as a useful but bossy friend.

But what you really want when writing is your right brain in full flight (well, you know what I mean), ready to take you to exhilarating heights. You need to hold onto this state as long as you can when you are writing.

How do you not do it?

Yes, easier to advocate than to action.

First, remind yourself that the session on which you are embarking is for writing, not editing. Even so, especially if you are prone to allow the left brain to kick in, it will initially be hard to stop it.

So, second, do not look anything up. You are writing a grand saga, and you begin to obsess on whether the frockcoat of the hero should have three buttons or four. Doesn’t matter. Just stick in your best guess and move on.

Third, assuage your left brain by highlighting any questionable words or passages. You can and should come back to these when you are editing.

These seem pretty simple and even obvious steps but they can be terrifically difficult for anyone used to letting the left brain horn in on the right brain’s time. Give each kid his time, just not at the same time.

April 17, 2020April 17, 2020

Should I Be My Own Editor?

You’ve finished your magnum opus. Congratulations! Take a moment to savor but only a moment. You need to edit the manuscript so it flows as you would wish. And ask yourself whether you should be your own editor. As I’ve already mentioned, editing while you’re writing the story is a bad idea. But I think the question is not so much should you be your own editor as can you.

Can you be your own editor?

There are some obvious things you need. Being a good proof-reader, knowing what you are looking for, etc. But can you also do it psychically? Ask yourself:

Are you in love with your novel?

Of course, you can (and should) love it but are you in love with it? It’s hard to do a good edit if you are convinced that every word is a pearl, and any change would destroy the whole. You need to have enough perspective to edit effectively.

How do you react to criticism?

If your automatic reaction is Of course I welcome criticism, I’m talking to you. When others critique your work, do you consider or spend most of your time explaining why the comments are (a) wrong; or (b), if correct, irrelevant; or (c) if relevant, not useful.

A critical part of editing is stepping back to view the novel more objectively. If you don’t react well to others’ comments, it’s hard to imagine you’ll engage in effective self-critique.

Can you be fairly ruthless in editing?

Clint Eastwood directed Bridges of Madison County, starring himself and Meryl Streep.

They fall in love while dancing. Lovely. Then another dance sequence establishing the same thing. Also delightful. But then another and another and another. A total of five dancing-falling-in-love scenes.

Each scene established the intent and did it well. But five were not needed. It felt as if Eastwood was so in love with them, he couldn’t cut any.

Can you be ruthless and cut even excellent writing when it impedes the forward motion of the plot? A tough but necessary qualification.

If your answers to the questions above are largely positive, then upcoming posts will help you be your own editor. If the answers tend to the negative, you might consider

Using friends/writing as editors

Well, it’s possible but it can be a problematic route.

Honestly, unless you have exceptionally good friends/relatives or members of your writing group are willing to do a quid pro quo, I’d be disinclined to tap them for this somewhat onerous task.

I am assuming that you’re not paying them so the edit has to be on their time, in their style, and incurs a huge you-owe-me-one. This may not suit your sense of urgency.

If you are paying, you have to be sure they have the editing skills before you hand it over. Being a good and enthusiastic reader of your work doesn’t cut it. This is a technical job which needs technical skills.

Hiring an editor

This of course costs and you need to decide whether it’s a good investment. If you do, make sure that you have re-read, revised, and fixed up the manuscript first. You want the editor to come up with new insights, not pick up on things you should have caught yourself.

With all of its caveats, I have to say, I tend to prefer being my own editor (with some exceptions I’ll note in later posts). Yes, it’s a lot of work but it can also be fun and most importantly, you can take the novel in the direction you want. Next post: Should I Edit as I Go?

April 10, 2020April 2, 2020

Creating a Believable World

In the last post, I Love The Handmaid’s Tale, I maintain that the characters work because they are in a world which rings true. How is this created?

What makes a story believable?

Science fiction writer John Wyndham’s gift was a unique ability to consistently create complete worlds. He wrote Day of the Triffids where everyone is blinded. I wanted to stop reading (too scary—see rule) but I couldn’t put it down. Similarly, the Midwich Cuckoos (filmed asVillage of the Damned)is the chilling story of alien children set to take over the world.

Wyndham’s genius is to present the reader, early on, with one unbelievable event. The plants which blind people in Triffids or the birth of the alien children by human mothers—Midwich. If you accept that event, everything else rolls out logically as the characters adapt to the change. Gangs of blind people enslave the few sighted ones to lead them to food; the alien children are in a special school because they’re too brilliant for ordinary education.

And thus a compelling and believable world is born.

So how do you make your fictional world as gripping, even without aliens?

How to make your fictional world realistic

One approach is to creating a realistic world is covered in my post, Creating the Fictional World. Below is another which is similar but different enough to warrant mention.

It helps to have a picture in your mind of a typical scene in your novel, whether main street, Wall Street, or fantasy. Doesn’t have to be fully formed and don’t bother writing it down. Just have it there as we walk through the following discussion.

How does the world affect/influence your main characters?

Pick a few characters (not a lot) and decide how the world influences their behavior. Is there pressure to conform in your small town world? Does the protagonist feel he has to live up to the world’s mythic figures?
Think of a scene which would show this quality to the reader. Write it.
As the novel develops, ask yourself this question again and write the scenes which illustrate the world’s influence.

How do your key characters react to the world?

Consciously try to get into your key characters’ heads
Work through the major events in your novel and consider how each of these characters might react.
For example, in Handmaid’s Tale, June/Offred and other Handmaids are ordered to stone a man. How is Aunt Lydia feeling? Perhaps satisfied but also trying to suppress her underlying misgivings. How is June feeling? Repulsed by it but knows she can say nothing. How is another Handmaid feeling? Perhaps she has been completely hoodwinked and allows her most animalistic urges to find expression. They are going to act differently because they feel differently. How do you show that?

In this way, you can help to build a credible world into which your reader can sink.

Will this guarantee a compelling world?

I really, really want to say, “Absolutely,” but I know I can’t. Whether this works depends on a myriad of things—the setting you’ve chosen, the characters in it, the plot, your mastery of the craft of writing. In other words, the whole shebang.

But being aware that the world you create can and should affect your characters will help to create a continuous dream for your readers. What we all want.

April 3, 2020March 27, 2020

I Love The Handmaid’s Tale

I don’t pay to get scared—a rule I live by. I don’t go to scary movies, I don’t bungie jump, I don’t escape to escape rooms. Yet I watch the dark, creepy and scary TV series, The Handmaid’s Tale.

Why?

Well, aside from deep psychological reasons I won’t go into, because The Handmaid’s Tale portrays a completely credible world (Gilead) in which I must immerse myself.

I’ve discussed this idea in Creating the Fictional World. Here, I’ll discuss how the writers have created this believability.[1]

Two characters in the Handmaid’s Tale

I want to focus on two characters—Aunt Lydia and the Commander, Fred Waterford.

Aunt Lydia

Aunt Lydia, portrayed by Ann Dowd, prepares fertile women for their new and unwelcome role as the Handmaids to Gilead’s elite.

But Aunt Lydia is not a one-dimensional bad guy. She uses a cattle prod to keep the Handmaids in line but argues a disfigured girl should receive a treat. She demands the Handmaids stone a ‘guilty’ man but seems genuinely happy at a pregnancy.

Normally, in fiction, we have trouble with a character that possesses such opposing traits.

Despite this, the writers of the show have made Aunt Lydia credible and compelling. The character has bought completely into the Gilead system. Because Aunt Lydia truly believes what she is doing is righteous, any promptings to be human (compassionate, kind, empathetic) are sternly suppressed as shameful weaknesses.

This rings true because history shows that unbelievably cruelty is possible under the sway of an ideology. During World War II, SS concentration camp officers believed that killing Jews and others, while difficult, was nevertheless for the greater Nazi good.

Aunt Lydia, like the SS officers, does her duty—even if or perhaps especially when, it is distasteful (inhuman).

The Commander

But while Aunt Lydia is caught in a system not of her creation, the Commander helped to shape Gilead’s laws.

Joseph Fiennes plays Commander Fred Waterford, a high-ranking government official. Like Aunt Lydia, he believes in Gilead. But the rules are for the likes of her, not him. He acts as all elites have in history—providing themselves with exemptions not available to the general population.

Thus, despite Gilead’s credo that sex is for reproduction only, he takes his handmaid to a club where the elite indulge in sex for pleasure.

Yet at other times, he invokes the law. He has his wife’s finger cut off for advocating that girls should be taught to read. And is tremendously remorseful later while maintaining it had to be done.

You see, there it is again. Characters acting inconsistently. But it totally works.

Why does this work?

Some might be thinking, “Well, real people don’t always act consistently.” Absolutely right. But say in the novel you’re reading the protagonist is calm, reflective, and logical. Then she suddenly abandons her job and husband for a wild party in India. As a reader, you’d be taken aback unless the writer provides a credible reason for this personality change. Because fiction has rules, albeit often unspoken, that writers must usually respect to produce a story satisfying to their readers.

I think The Handmaid’s Tale works because the characters act in a world which itself rings true. And they act consistently within that world.

So, how do you create a believable world in which characters can live? Next post.

[1] For those who don’t know the story, IMBd has short summaries.

March 27, 2020February 7, 2020

Your Reader is Smarter than You

Jack Bickam, a writer of fiction, quoted the above from a newsroom sign, somewhere, sometime. A warning to reporters to remember that readers are smarter than they are. A good thing for writers of any kind to keep in mind.

Now, I know that you would never condescend in this way. You’re not that kind of person. Would you? You can do it without meaning to.

Ways you don’t treat your readers as smarter

Too much background

As I’ve discussed in Exposition, giving the reader a lot of background before the real action starts slows down the forward motion of the story. It can also accidentally send the message that you think the reader is too stupid to pick up what’s going on unless you spell it out for him. But he can do very well even with a minimal amount of information. In fact, it can be intriguing. Who’s talking? What’s going on? Why did she say that? Readers can tolerate not only being puzzled but positively enjoy it. So enthrall rather than underrate.

Showing off your expertise

A related thing but it can happen at any point in the plot. I paraphrase an actual amateur writer’s approach.

“This dishonors my family!” he shouted. “I must have revenge!” He pulled out a scimitar, which is a short sword with a curved blade, used originally in Eastern countries.

Exactly the wrong time to drop in a piece of research. It can kick your reader right out of the story. If you really, really think your readers don’t know what a scimitar is and cannot get it from the context, introduce the term sometime earlier.

Telling them how to interpret your story

You want to get your message across. Of course you do. But it is both clunky and insulting to write:

This is a story of hope. Despite almost insurmountable odds, Ryan will triumph, showing the world that no disability can prevent his true spirit shining through.

This is what you want your reader to conclude (hopefully with less hackneyed words) once she has read your compelling tale of your protagonist’s travails and final triumph. Again, show don’t tell.

Driving the point home

Some writers think they can sneak in the message by one of the characters articulating it.

Brenda wiped a tear away. “It’s hard to believe Ryan could accomplish that with all his challenges.”

Gary nodded. “He’s an example of the unconquerable human spirit.”

Even if you write it more elegantly than this bit, you’re still trying to give the reader the ‘correct’ conclusion. The right one is the one the reader comes up with himself.

Trying to get away with something

You can run into a plot point which is needed but doesn’t fit with what has gone before. Yes, she’s a bitch but if she doesn’t volunteer at the shelter, she won’t meet Jake. Or The floor has to collapse. Otherwise, how do I get them to the underground cave?

The temptation is to motor along with what you need for the plot, hoping that your readers won’t notice. News. They do with annoying frequency. Whenever I have tried an easy way out, someone invariably says, “But wouldn’t they feel that the floor wasn’t solid as soon as they stepped on it?”

The answer is to go back and fix the bits inconsistent with where you now want to go in the action. A nuisance, I know, but you often get a better plot if you do.

It is easy to inadvertently give the impression you think you’re smarter than your readers. You can avoid it by being alert to unintentional slips.