Editing

is tedious. And annoying. If you're like me, then editing is the hardest aspect of writing. BIC? Easy, if I have time. Rejections? I'll live. But editing?

NOOOO!!!!! Spare me.

What is it I dislike so much about editing? Is it because I think everything I've written is golden and doesn't need cleaning up? Ha!

No, editing is difficult for me because… well, because it's difficult. Digging into the novel and finding the flaws, the things that don't work, and then correcting them, is a mountainous task.

Some are frozen with fear at the sight of said mountain, but that's not the case with me. I find it easy to make the first steps; I attack the first draft eagerly. However, as the task draws on I get worn down.

Stamina is a trait that I just don't have when it comes to editing—or writing, for that matter—so I have to take frequent breaks. Flurries of progress are followed by bouts of do-nothing. And the longer I push myself, the longer the lapses seem to last, the more demoralized I become. By the time I draw close to the end of a round of edits, there's nothing I want to do more than throw the entire MS into next week (or the garbage, as the case may be).

Somehow, I know, I have to find the strength to go on. I need help.

"Help? Never!" Oh shut up.

Sure, playing the Fate Spider of your fictive world is fun (at least, I think so), but some obstacles are so great one cannot overcome them on his own.

This help can come in a variety of forms. Simple things like prayer, staying active, and taking time off to think can do wonders. Also, keep friends informed of progress, including the lack thereof. Even if they don't care, and they should if they care about you, the shame of not getting enough done can keep the motivation flag flying long after the winds have passed.

Finally, if you need to take breaks (like me), then take them before you burn out.

These are just a few methods I use. What do you do to combat editing/writing fatigue? Or are you one of those people for whom writing and editing is as easy as breathing? (do those people really exist?)

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

Writing — I Can't Move On

Recently I've experienced doubt as to whether or not I'll ever be a REAL writer. I've never been published, I've hardly even finished anything. I feel that if I pursue this dream, then the thought police will show up in their dark glasses, dark expressions, and all black SUV's.

I fear I'll never make it… But I still can't give up. This is something I have to do, because it's part of me.

And here's something else that's part of me.

"The Book of Aelus" was my first major writing project. I spent years on it (5ish?), while writing other things, but this story I was determined to finish. And finish it I did, finally, late last year. With around 110,000 words, much of it rewritten or scrapped completely. Then I sat back, looked at what I had created, and was disappointed. It was a mess, and my aimless re writing, I felt, had cut the heart out of it.

So I tried to move on… But it wasn't that easy. Time and again, something kept me coming back to it. The characters called to me, the story cried out to become something beautiful.

I planned and attempted a major revision this past February, but lost steam. This was due to 2 things: 1,  unreasonable goals that I couldn't possible keep (once you fail a goal, it makes it easier to fail the ones after it.); and 2, I'd lost the heart of the story, I'd forgotten what it was, what I'd intended it to be.

I decided the story was dead. I forced my bloody, guilt ridden hands away, and tossed it in a file to collect dust. I moved on to other things, other projects. I wrote a couple flash pieces, a short story, and got several thousand words done on several different projects.

But today something changed again. Another reversal. The call back to "The Hot Gates" and her crew has again reached my ears. I know what I'm getting into is a long and dark tunnel (one that will probably be filled with pain), but that will not keep me from searching for the light.

I want this story to be told. I want it to be something I can point to, to say: "you should read this." Because this story was more than a learning experience, it is a part of me—and I don't want it to die.

That's not to say that I'll abandon my other projects in the process—I don't have the kind of one track mind required for that. Nor will I try to rush through it like it did in my previous attempts. I'm taking it slow, knowing that it's more important to do something write than to do something fast. Ideally one does the job both fast and right; but hey, I'm still learning.

Maybe I'm just crazy, maybe I'm wasting my time. But I've tried to move on, an that's something I just can't do. I truly do think this tale is worth the telling. I'll never give up hope.

Am I deluded? Is this just story just holding me back? Perhaps, but that is a risk I'm willing to take. You have to take risks for what you love, don't you?

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.