Sunday, January 6, 2013
Edit, Write, Read. Repeat.
Editing is a necessary evil. I crammed Monday through Wednesday, and now my second draft is done. However, I still have no real resolution, even though I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks now. I need to work on that. What “my second draft is done,” means (for me) is that I’ve cut everything that’s unnecessary. Description, awful metaphors, dialogue tags, stupid ranting paragraphs.
By the end of my editing, I effectively hated my MC. She’s a good person and I’d like to be friends with her in real life (although she has trust problems, so that wouldn’t work out so well), but I vented so much through her. There were pages of her worrying about whether she should make a certain decision or not, etc. Also by the end of my novel, I was fuming at my unnecessary dialogue tags. It got to the point where one of my recurring thoughts was, “If I see one more ‘I/She nodded’ or ‘I sighed,’ I’m going to burn the computer and cackle evilly.” It was that bad, and to think that I wrote it . . . Well, I’m not going to give up on it, anyway. I effectively cut 30% of my novel (now at a basic 42,000 words) so that was nice. This makes me even more appreciative of the amazing characters, settings, and stories that so many authors create.
My family has been very supportive of my writing, as always, especially my dad. Well, that’s a bit of an understatement. He thinks I could get published in several years. Whether or not that is true (although I’m guessing there are some parental biases at work), I’m going to continue editing my novel until I think it’s good enough and, of course, get my betas’ opinions.
Additionally, I started another novel! My working title is The Tinkers. It’s dystopian (again), and it’s about this man, Dem Grayson, who’s a tinker in a very different society. (Wow, this synopsis won’t win me any prizes.) His trade is making sure that everyone functions accordingly—meaning, at the age of thirty, everyone becomes paralyzed. His job is to make them paralyzed by making them susceptible and then giving them a shot that paralyzes them. (It’s better than it sounds, I promise.) He is approaching thirty, but he hopes he’ll evade the procedure. When Ol shows up at his doorstep with questions about her mom and a fascinating secret, he has no choice but to share his own.
Right now I’m 1,000 words into it. I really like the story idea (although since I solely write dark fiction—though unintentionally—it’s darker than I planned). We’ll see where it goes; at least since I’ve already edited a first draft I’ll know more what to expect on the next book. Of course, I suspect this may be my subconscious trying to get out of editing more.
If you have any tips on resolutions or editing, I’d love to hear them in the comments.
Katia, the writer girl