So, I’ve noticed something over the past few years. The differential in difficulty between editing my own stuff and editing other people’s has shifted radically.
It used to be that I found it much easier to look objectively at someone else’s words and make useful suggestions than to see the holes in my own sentences and stories. Now, I find the reverse is true. Not because editing other people has gotten harder—if anything it’s simpler now—but because editing myself has gotten much easier. There are two reasons for that.
The first is that I’ve gotten more objective about my work, more able to see the flaws, particularly at the sentence and paragraph level. I suspect that’s partially because my eye has gotten better, but mostly because I suck less in general and so the rough patches stand out more.
The second reason is that I can be utterly merciless with myself. I don’t have to make suggestions, or gently bring issues to the attention of the writer. I can just fix the damn things and move on without spending time on polite. I can scrap hundreds of words at a go without feeling the least bit like I’ve killed somebody’s brain child.
The funny thing about the realization is that it happened when I was editing two pieces of professional-quality writing.
These were taken as I found them after realizing I hadn’t posted yet. Feel free to supply your own captions. BTW, does it say more about them or me that the two I had the hardest trouble finding were in the same room with me?
I’m in a mood to commit writer heresy today. So here it is:
I don’t really care about the words.
Let me repeat that: I don’t care about the words. On an individual level they really don’t matter to me. Neither does the punctuation. Even the meaning is negotiable, at least at the sentence level and paragraph level.
What I care about is the story. It doesn’t matter to the story whether something is ebon or charcoal or plain old black. Any of those or none of those might serve depending on the surrounding words, the tone, and what I want the reader to take away from the story. Even then it’s not a fixed value.
When I first write the sentence containing the word meaning (black) I could use any one of dozens of words, depending on what tastes right, or nearly right, in the moment. If I really cared about the word as a unit, this is a point where I might end up slowed down or even stopped for a long time while I found the exact right word. But knowing that it’s the story that matters, not the specific word, I can just go ahead and drop in something that approximates what I need and move on.
Sometimes the initial choice is the word that I end up using. Sometimes it gets changed on the second pass, where I move through as a reader and try to make the whole thing feel smooth. Sometime the word goes away along with the sentence or paragraph that holds it as I realize that (black) would be better placed earlier or later, or implied, or that the reader doesn’t need to know, or that (blue) would serve the story better.
It’s not until my very last polish pass before sending something out that I start to get nitpicky about the words. Even then I don’t really sweat the details too much. I have been at this for a while and I know that nothing is final until it has gone to press, and even then there might be later editions.
My agent might ask for changes. My editor might ask for changes. I might write a sequel or a related piece before the original is published, and that might necessitate changes. I might put it aside for a time and come back and make changes.
All of those changes will affect the words, shifting meaning, nudging flow, altering tone, restructuring scene and paragraph and sentence.
I don’t really care about the words.
I care about the story.
2013 update (adding in material from my comments on the original post):
1) For me looking at the words is all about story, not about phrasing. Attention paid to the words is a side effect.
2) My contention would be that story is the sum of words at the aggregate level and that too many writers spend too much time worrying about words on the individual level, focusing on making a specific sentence work exactly right rather than focusing on how groups of sentences go together to convey information.
I write poetry as well as novels, and for poetry I care about the individual words in a way that I don’t at novel length. The process of writing poetry is fundamentally different for me. It’s much harder and orders of magnitude more time consuming, because with poetry I’m looking at things at the individual word level as opposed to the paragraph or scene level.
With a novel I can usually find a half dozen ways to convey a bit of information any of which is roughly as good (in my eyes) as any other.
3) Here’s another way to look at it. Write a novel in German. Get three really good translators, one English, one American, one Australian. Have them all translate the original novel into English. There will be significant differences in the words from translation to translation, but the fundamentals of the story should come out reasonably close. That core story is what I really care about.
4) Don’t get married to one particular word or phrase.
Books aren’t static creations, not until the very last instant before going to press. Writing is a dynamic process and losing sight of that is a good way to tie an anchor around your ankle.
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*Your results may vary. All normal restrictions apply. Caveat emptor. There are a thousand ways and one to write to a book, every one right. Etc. etc. etc.