That’s right. I’m still editing the novel.
It is an interesting experience when you read back through a large body of work that you’ve written, and actually, despite the title of this blog (we’ll come to that in a moment) it is really rather enjoyable. I feel like I am really beginning to finely sculpt the work into the piece that I envisaged from the start. I have already said somewhere, I think, that to me editing is where the writing really happens; the first draft is just a messy spill of loose ideas vaguely held together by a thread of narrative, but editing is the pulling together of those strands and ideas, and making them into a cohesive piece of work.
Sometimes though, like the title suggests, you come across some of your own writing that is just shite. It is within these passages that all of the fear and doubt that you have ever felt for your work lingers, waiting to grab you by the throat. It tries to make you throw whichever writing implement you choose to the floor, and grab the first alcoholic thing that comes to hand. But you mustn’t, because that way failure lies.
So you must hammer away at the offending words until they shine with a new sense of purpose, delivering narrative as sleek as the rest of the text so that next time you look over it you can… oh it still looks shite. Well then, you must attack it again, and again, and again until the bloody thing does what its meant to, and if not, just cut the whole lot altogether.
- 5 Tips to Edit Your Book Like a Pro (fastpencil.wordpress.com)
- Editing blues (thrillingwriting.wordpress.com)
- Editing Your Own Work (maasmith.com)