Ruthless Revision: Part Two

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“To write simply is as difficult as to be good.”

Somerset Maugham

Micro-revision // First Steps

After the macro revision and after deconstructing your premise, themes, etc put your manuscript away. Let it cool down. As written so brilliantly by Kathy Crowley in Beyond The Margins, what happens in the drawer is a bit of magic. Refrigerate your book between each revision. Fresh eyes are a writer’s best, if most cynical, friend. When you are madly in love with your product is the time to resist. Resist sending it out to agents, resist giving it to everyone in your family (no matter how hard they beg) and resist reading and re-reading your over-loved words until you’ve memorized it.

You need to look at your book with eyes as critical as the ones judging how your ex’s have fared.

A Checklist for technical concerns:

Issues & Questions to ask yourself after every draft.

 

1) Showing or telling? How much narrative summary do you have? Does enough happen in scene? Is your prose as active as possible? Do you have he was angry or he shattered the window?

Don’t say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream.” Mark Twain

2) Characterization? Avoid thumbnails sketches and let characters unfold before the reader. Don’t define everything the moment they come on stage, start with a bit of looks, and let character’s personality unfold before reader. Watch out for ‘looking in the mirror’ descriptions. Have your characters

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Ruthless Revision: Part One

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Just when you think you’re done with revision, guess what? There’s room to do one more (or maybe two, or three.) The smartest thing my agent did for me recently (uh, except for selling my book) was suggesting that one more revision on my current work-in-progress would be beneficial. (Her words were a little more pointed, actually. But that’s why I love her.)

I don’t know about you, but I read books with an eye towards how well they were revised. Not just well written, but well revised, because it’s between the first flashes of imagination and the last comma switching that the magic occurs. Sometimes I think the formula is this:

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You Are What You Read

A Guest Post
By Jamye Shelleby

Not too long ago, I went through a writing identity crisis. After years of calling myself a fiction writer—through my MFA, through revisions of my novel—I found that I no longer thought about writing fiction. I’d stopped narrating my everyday life as I’d once done; I’d stopped making up backstories for the cashiers at the grocery store. I knew I was still a writer, but I hadn’t finished a piece in years, and worse, I didn’t have any new ideas. If I wasn’t a fiction writer, who was I?

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Launch Day: THE BOOK OF LOST FRAGRANCES

 

How better to introduce a book, than to offer the first chapter?

The Book of Lost Fragrances 

by M.J. Rose

But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection. —Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past 

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Contraception & The VIDA COUNT: The Nightmare Connection

I woke up (just moments ago) with the proverbial pounding three am heart. I had a nightmare about trying to convince unresponsive authorities about young girls being attacked. The specifics of my nightmare don’t matter (is there anything more boring than hearing someone recount their dreams point by point? It happened in my house, but different—ya know what I mean?)

As I trembled myself calm, the clinging details of the dream troubled me so much I had to take Gaviscom for my nausea as I tried to analyze it my terror. Trying to be logical, I analyzed the day, which I’d spent:

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Scent Inspired the Book; Her Book Inspired a Perfume

 


The Story Behind The Book of Lost Fragrances

by M.J. Rose

Several years ago, I went to a brocante – a flea market  - in Cannes, France. It was a perfect morning to peruse antiques; warm with a little breeze to mingle the scent of fresh flowers with seaside town’s fresh salty air.

One table that caught my attention offered an intriguing mix of items laid out as if they were resting on an elegant woman’s vanity.

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How Long Does it Take to Get Published?

 

Recently, a thread in an online writer’s community popped up, beginning with someone (who hadn’t begun querying) asking why folks sent query letters to so many agents.

Did they have that many “dream agents?

Why not send to just one or two top choices?

And, really, how long does it take?

Answers flew in—achingly honest and reminiscent of everyone’s distant and not-at-all-distant (often painful) publishing journeys.  I thought back to how long it took me.

The answer? You got some time?

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Sad Songs? Yo-yo love? Love to love ya, baby? What kind of Valentine do you have?

These are the many types of relationships I’ve had: Sad. Obsessive. Pathetic. Boring. Are you kidding me? “Do you think he has a drinking problem?” Liar, liar, pant’s on fire.

You name it. I had it. Now. At long last (it only took me  . . never mind—many years) I have a no-sad-song love. Perhaps if during those never-mind years, I’d had a song-test, I’d have left bad-boy-hell sooner. Thus, as a Valentine’s Day Public Service:

A Love Pain Meter:

1) If this song wrenches your heart, if you play it more than once, if it haunts you:

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How Things Can Change: Looking Forward to Valentine’s Day

It’s sure nice to have love where it’s not the sad songs that provide the theme. Thank you, Jeff.

 

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Coming Attractions: OUTSIDE THE LINES by Amy Hatvany

No matter what is written, blurbed, or said about a new book, it’s only upon reading those first few pages that I know if I will sink in. So, how nice to be able to present that most important part of an about-to-release book—unadorned—the first pages.

When Eden was ten years old she found her father, David, bleeding on the bathroom floor. The suicide attempt led to her parents’ divorce, and David all but vanished from Eden’s life

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