Wielding the Knife and Editing Your Words

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Do you know what’s hard about writing? Re-reading what you’ve written and realizing it doesn’t work.

Today, let’s talk about editing, that ruthless task that requires all writers to bow their heads in anguish, straining against the need to destroy the blood, sweat, and tears that have poured out in the form of words. It’s where I’m at with my latest book, so I feel the need to explore what it means.

I like editing. The reason I like editing is because I get to enjoy the fruits of my labor and make them better. I’m the type of person who likes viciously correcting typos and finding errors so I can fix them. It matches my perfectionistic tendencies with my love of organization. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy having to get rid of something I liked (still like!) when I wrote it. Yet sometimes that’s the only way a story works, even if taking something out feels like it invalidates all the hard work I did before. (The good news is editing sometimes involves adding something in!)

That’s why I plan my stories out as much as I can in advance. It leaves less structural editing for the end and I can focus all my compulsive editing joy on weeding out those clear mistakes and obsessively adding and deleting commas.

You’ll find all sorts of advice out there about how to edit, when to edit, and the reasons why it’s necessary. The most famous things you’ll hear almost always seem to involve murder somehow. Why do we as writers consistently need to refer to editing our precious words in such violent terms? Perhaps because it is a violent act to us. We sacrificed a lot for these words. They contain our heart and soul. Asking us to delete, change, or rearrange them does feel akin to a savage act. But that’s the advice we’re given. We must be ruthless and allow no sentiment to protect the imperfect words, therefore permitting them to push forward to the finished product.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s good advice. But, in the end, you’re the only one who knows exactly what you’re trying to say. If you’ve edited long and hard, taken in the advice and knowledge of other people, and still feel like that particular phrase needs to be included, follow your gut.

The most beautiful things are those that madness prompts and reason writes. – Andre Gide

Someone recently gave me the brilliant idea of using other people’s words to inspire my own. Gasp; a novel concept. Yet one that doesn’t occur to me often enough. So here I am, learning and growing and expanding my horizons. That is what editing is all about—opening up and sometimes closing down the possibilities you’ve created.

Perhaps the rough draft is madness, all genius and flowery phrases and wild car chases and too detailed descriptions and clever (I thought so anyway) banter. Reason comes in behind, wielding a scythe, and separates the wheat from the chaff. The result is a beautiful harvest, the fruits of which can be enjoyed endlessly.

I’m keeping this short and to the point. Hopefully. After all, that’s less editing. *wink* The simplest way to say something—the clearest—is the best choice in writing. That’s what they told me in editing school and I’ve seen it proven true. So go wild when writing, but be prepared for the pruning that follows. Give a little time in between these two stages to prepare your heart to say goodbye and clear away nostalgic feelings for your awkward sentences. And always, always, have someone else read your words. You can’t see every error, even the obvious ones. Editing is not shameful; it’s necessary.

Writing is a marriage between inspiration and discipline. It takes a lot to make these opposites meld together, but when they do, it’s a love story for the ages.