I spent last week editing
down a submission for Chicken Soup for the Soul. This lead came from a
recommendation on the Funds for Writers website. Apparently a lot of people
have their first freelance writing sales with this series.
The topic for the prospective
book I was aiming for: Hope and Miracles.
I thought I had my story in
pretty good shape from an earlier essay submission that didn’t pan out. No
rejection via standardized email, just nothing. Not unexpected from a national
magazine that would have had thousands of entries.
The website for Chicken Soup
for the Soul had guidelines for its submissions: what they should be—what they
should not be. The final note: Tighten, Tighten, Tighten!
I began rereading my piece smugly
thinking, “This won’t need much tightening.
I’ve been over it lots times already.”
My writing style usually
involves a rough draft with a great many rounds of rereading, rewriting, taking
a break, and then doing it all over again—more times than I care to keep track
of.
When I began reviewing my
essay, I was initially dismayed with the mistakes I found. So much for my proof
reading ability. (I definitely need to develop a better eye—or hire someone.) I
kept at it. Every time I would think “This is it. I can’t go any further,” I’d
take a break and come back to find more spots where I could make cuts and not
hurt anything, even make it clearer, stronger.
The editing took my word
count from 1125 to 979 over two days. It became a personal contest with each
reread: What can I take out? How much fat could there be? Do I really need
that?
Stephen King’s book On Writing strongly encourages taking
out 20 percent. My trimming took out 146 words for 13 percent.
First to go, those pesky and
unneeded adjectives and adverbs: big, quickly, etc. Next, those dangling
independent and dependant clauses I have a habit of inserting—not needed. The
real prizes—whole sentences. Windfalls to stringent editing.
Tighten, Tighten, Tighten!
Probably a good motto for all short stories and flash fiction. However, I’m not
going to go overboard for my novel. I need to keep those extra juicy little
tidbits of color and drama to make things interesting—at least for now.
I mention this journey because
this philosophy of economy, this appeal for brevity runs totally opposite to
what’s needed for National Novel Writing Month. The first rule for NaNoWriMo is:
turn off your internal editor and write,
write, write!
I’m glad I got the editing
out of the way last week. Now is the time to write with abandon.