On Revision
One of the things that has me most worried about this project, is the problem of over- and underwriting the whole thing. Obviously, I don't mean underwriting in any legal sense. No, what I mean is that there's a distinct fish-stick problem with my writing, and by that I mean that I often feel that my writings are like fish-sticks: frozen on the inside and burned on the outside. It's supposed to balance out--in theory--but, in reality, it's just an unpalatable mess.
This is something that I've struggled with since I was a really young writer. In fact, I have a distinct memory of breaking down into tears while I was in the midst of one of my earliest writing projects. It must've been during my 7th grade year, when I was working on one of my many Spider-Man novels. I had been slaving away on it at whatever rate I could (I wasn't nearly as obsessive about documenting and measuring my work back then as I am now), and the reality that the story sucked (which it did, but probably not so bad for a 7th grader) had really worn me down. I had worked hard on it, after all, and I hated to think that it was as lousy as it probably was.
I remember sobbing into my mother's arms that my writing was lopsided--sometimes it was good and written well and clearly; sometimes it was more of a rapid compilation of words. However I described it, I made it clear to my mom that I wasn't very happy with how my book was turning out. She listened sympathetically, gave me some recommendations (which I didn't follow; I simply needed someone to vent to. Gayle has taken my mother's place as being the depository for all of my misgivings and insecurities), and then sent me off to bed feeling marginally better. I have come a long way in my writing since that early (and highly embarrassing) work, but the problem of imbalance and lopsided prose still haunts me.
Today is an excellent example of that. I got over 4,400 words written today (making me within easy striking distance of my goal by year's end), and though they propel the story forward, their actual quality doesn't sit well with me. They feel...rushed, imbalanced, as if I was hurrying to get them down rather than enjoying the process. (And, to be fair to myself, I did feel pressured to get my writing down, rather than enjoying the whole thing. It's the Saturday before Halloween, and I'm writing at the UVU library instead of carving pumpkins with my kids--which leads to a different kind of guilt that'll fester until a different writing log.) So I saved them, I'll leave them, and then I'll struggle mightily with them when I get to revisions.
In fact, that's what I wanted to write about today: my worry about the revision process. See, I've never been very good at sticking with a project from top to bottom all the way. I get distracted by new stories when I hit about the 75% mark in the book. This has happened for as long as I can remember, and it's part of the reason I get all fish-sticky when I write. I get bored with the story and characters (some of whom I've known for years before I finish their books), and I get the wandering eye, seeking out new adventures and new ideas. While I haven't hit that point yet with this book, I'm certain that it'll come soon.*
I notice this phenomenon as it cycles through my book. In the first chapter (one I'm very familiar with because I read it to some of my creative writing classes last year), the whole thing is overwritten. That is, the verbiage is too poetic (which is weird for a book in which the magic is poetry-based) and the descriptions of unimportant things are dwelt on for too long. Then I look at today's chapters (53 and 54), and the paucity of details makes me sick. Yet I couldn't remain focused on the details, as I was too concerned about advancing the story. "I'll add some good, vivid details when I go through it again," I lied to myself as I recognized what I was doing but didn't have the self-control to stop.
Revisions, then, are perhaps the greatest indication of one's dedication to the craft. If you can stick with a story through the thousands (in this case, Writ in Blood will probably be, at least, 250,000 words) upon thousands of words to the end the first time, you like to write. If you can suffer through your own writing--much worse than hearing a recording of your voice--a second time, you could call yourself an aspiring author. If you can revise a third time, then you're on your way to actually being a competent writer. A fourth and fifth revision? That's when you're pro.
I'm far from pro. The only story that I have enough interest in to revise that much is the one I'm writing now, since that's the one that's farthest from having to be reread. But Words of the Silenced is a pretty good book that I have almost no desire to look at--and I finished a second pass through that thing, as well as a reread without revisions, over 18 months ago.
I'm not sure if there's a point to this particular point, save that the only way to cure my fish-stick problem is to put the extra work into it--to make sure each scene and detail isn't too cold, too overdone, but just right. Yeah, so, to mix my metaphors, I'm hoping to Goldilocks my fish-sticks.
That sounds kinda provocative. Well, I'll revise that sentence some other time. Maybe....
----
*I had a cool idea for a world building element thanks to something I read in the Iliad the other day. I can't remember the exact line (and I'm too lazy to look it up), but it said something about the life of a dead Trojan (I think) coming out of his bones. So that lead to a new idea about bones being essential for reincarnation of some other world, and now I'm interested in exploring that. I'm afraid that my self-diagnosed ADHD is having a very negative impact on my quality of writing.
One of the things that has me most worried about this project, is the problem of over- and underwriting the whole thing. Obviously, I don't mean underwriting in any legal sense. No, what I mean is that there's a distinct fish-stick problem with my writing, and by that I mean that I often feel that my writings are like fish-sticks: frozen on the inside and burned on the outside. It's supposed to balance out--in theory--but, in reality, it's just an unpalatable mess.
This is something that I've struggled with since I was a really young writer. In fact, I have a distinct memory of breaking down into tears while I was in the midst of one of my earliest writing projects. It must've been during my 7th grade year, when I was working on one of my many Spider-Man novels. I had been slaving away on it at whatever rate I could (I wasn't nearly as obsessive about documenting and measuring my work back then as I am now), and the reality that the story sucked (which it did, but probably not so bad for a 7th grader) had really worn me down. I had worked hard on it, after all, and I hated to think that it was as lousy as it probably was.
I remember sobbing into my mother's arms that my writing was lopsided--sometimes it was good and written well and clearly; sometimes it was more of a rapid compilation of words. However I described it, I made it clear to my mom that I wasn't very happy with how my book was turning out. She listened sympathetically, gave me some recommendations (which I didn't follow; I simply needed someone to vent to. Gayle has taken my mother's place as being the depository for all of my misgivings and insecurities), and then sent me off to bed feeling marginally better. I have come a long way in my writing since that early (and highly embarrassing) work, but the problem of imbalance and lopsided prose still haunts me.
Today is an excellent example of that. I got over 4,400 words written today (making me within easy striking distance of my goal by year's end), and though they propel the story forward, their actual quality doesn't sit well with me. They feel...rushed, imbalanced, as if I was hurrying to get them down rather than enjoying the process. (And, to be fair to myself, I did feel pressured to get my writing down, rather than enjoying the whole thing. It's the Saturday before Halloween, and I'm writing at the UVU library instead of carving pumpkins with my kids--which leads to a different kind of guilt that'll fester until a different writing log.) So I saved them, I'll leave them, and then I'll struggle mightily with them when I get to revisions.
In fact, that's what I wanted to write about today: my worry about the revision process. See, I've never been very good at sticking with a project from top to bottom all the way. I get distracted by new stories when I hit about the 75% mark in the book. This has happened for as long as I can remember, and it's part of the reason I get all fish-sticky when I write. I get bored with the story and characters (some of whom I've known for years before I finish their books), and I get the wandering eye, seeking out new adventures and new ideas. While I haven't hit that point yet with this book, I'm certain that it'll come soon.*
I notice this phenomenon as it cycles through my book. In the first chapter (one I'm very familiar with because I read it to some of my creative writing classes last year), the whole thing is overwritten. That is, the verbiage is too poetic (which is weird for a book in which the magic is poetry-based) and the descriptions of unimportant things are dwelt on for too long. Then I look at today's chapters (53 and 54), and the paucity of details makes me sick. Yet I couldn't remain focused on the details, as I was too concerned about advancing the story. "I'll add some good, vivid details when I go through it again," I lied to myself as I recognized what I was doing but didn't have the self-control to stop.
Revisions, then, are perhaps the greatest indication of one's dedication to the craft. If you can stick with a story through the thousands (in this case, Writ in Blood will probably be, at least, 250,000 words) upon thousands of words to the end the first time, you like to write. If you can suffer through your own writing--much worse than hearing a recording of your voice--a second time, you could call yourself an aspiring author. If you can revise a third time, then you're on your way to actually being a competent writer. A fourth and fifth revision? That's when you're pro.
I'm far from pro. The only story that I have enough interest in to revise that much is the one I'm writing now, since that's the one that's farthest from having to be reread. But Words of the Silenced is a pretty good book that I have almost no desire to look at--and I finished a second pass through that thing, as well as a reread without revisions, over 18 months ago.
I'm not sure if there's a point to this particular point, save that the only way to cure my fish-stick problem is to put the extra work into it--to make sure each scene and detail isn't too cold, too overdone, but just right. Yeah, so, to mix my metaphors, I'm hoping to Goldilocks my fish-sticks.
That sounds kinda provocative. Well, I'll revise that sentence some other time. Maybe....
----
*I had a cool idea for a world building element thanks to something I read in the Iliad the other day. I can't remember the exact line (and I'm too lazy to look it up), but it said something about the life of a dead Trojan (I think) coming out of his bones. So that lead to a new idea about bones being essential for reincarnation of some other world, and now I'm interested in exploring that. I'm afraid that my self-diagnosed ADHD is having a very negative impact on my quality of writing.
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