I’m not being facetious with that title. Editing can be tedious, it’s true, but as I undergo my final edits on this manuscript to ready it for submission, I find I’m relating to the text in an even deeper way than before. Which is difficult to believe, frankly, given the fact that I, you know, wrote it. And that I’ve reread the whole thing so many times I can quote large portions verbatim.
A couple of weeks ago, I took the train up to Seattle to visit Cat for something we called a Writing Workshop and Retreat. Cat is a technical writing editor, you see, adn while that is a whole different sort of editing from fiction editing, her eye is still incredibly helpful when it comes to tightening up the manuscript. Beyond the obvious editing of grammar and spelling, she’s terrific at helping me excise all those pesky slippages like passive voice constructions, ambiguous pronoun references, and excessive run-on sentences.
So there’s that. Which is awesome. But another facet of awesomeness is the way it’s helped me feel confident that I will know when a change is necessary, when it’s a matter of preference, when it’s a matter of style, and when it’s something I feel strongly enough about to fight for it. Not to fight with her about, you understand*, but just to defend my own choices when it comes up with a future editor. And it will, inevitably, and that’s a good thing. But I don’t want to be the kind of author who thinks that every word is precious, and who doesn’t receive editing instructions well, who argues about every comma splice and incomplete sentence. The fact is, as much as writing is a solitary creation process, good writing is a collaborative creation process, and I want to be a good writer.
*Our process is very simple: she edits ahead of me in chapters , and I come along behind considering each change, deciding whether to accept or reject each change (god bless Word’s “Track Changes” feature, btw).
Getting back to the point I originally started with…
As I go through considering each proposed change, it’s made me consider each one in a larger context. Even something as simple as an apostrophe can have implications for the whole story. For example, early on, Cat was removing all contractions, including those in dialogue, with the idea that I may want a more formal tone not just to the narrative, but to the characters’ voices.
That’s true to some degree: I don’t want the narrative to have contractions, and though I did a pretty meticulous job of removing them previously, I’m obviously not going to catch them all. Dialogue, however, is another matter. I don’t want my characters to sound stilted and unbelievable. But some characters don’t use contractions, or don’t use them as frequently as others. (Older characters vs. younger, for example.) And in the case of the mind-voices used in the story, not all. And in the case of the Big Bad, he/it not only doesn’t use contractions, his/its voice is in all caps.
Now this is something I did very intentionally throughout, and that didn’t change in this editing process. But because she had flagged every contraction, I was rereading each sentence and phrasing anew, and in some cases, hearing it a little differently. In some cases, I even decided to rearrange a sentence to avoid a contraction or spelling it out, because neither one was the right choice for that scene/character/tone.
Our Writing Workshop and Retreat was an astounding success. We got a great deal of work done and we work very well together, I’m happy to say. We had lots of fun and laughs (and chatting and eating and watching movies and fun times). I felt reinvigorated from my new view of the text, and I’m excited about forging ahead on edits. We’ll be doing it again very soon, and I can’t/cannot wait!