Final edits — and the hunt for a title

My manuscript came back from the caring hands of my good friend who had offered to copy-edit it. In keeping with her goodness and her wealth of experience, she offered more than simply a rigorous copy-edit.

I was delighted to discover that much of our conversation about the story was around the mechanics of English and the use of stronger, as in vital rather than colorful, language.

My friend did highlight two areas where the plot thinned rather than thickened, but the lapses are easily repaired.

One thing, however, needs to change — the title. *sigh*

I knew it did. The current working title is the second one the work has had. But I knew it needed to be something else.

If I only knew what it should be.

Anyway, I know I'm in the final editing phase. There's nothing structurally wrong with the story. A nip here, a tuck there, a sprucing up and final dusting and it will be ready.

Once I have the title...and maybe a new cover.

Yike!

Editing...editing...editing...

It's been a long time coming. And it's not here yet.

But it's taking shape. Thank goodness for another set of eyes. Eyes that are not so used to the text on the page/screen that they can't see what's there - just what I imagined I'd written.

As is often the case, the story I can hear in my head doesn't quite get to the page in the same form. But it will.

But, as can be seen, it's a painful exercise. For the other pair of eyes - and blue pen - as well as for me, the hapless writer. There are some parts of this story that were only clear to the writer of same. As such, readers were on their own. And that won't do.

Some of it I can lay at the door of my less-experienced self. Some of it as a result of my first NaNoWriMo effort. I had the story, and some art. But not as much craft as is needed.

However, it's not all bad, or not as bad as the marks on the page above suggest. As can be seen from the second photo - parts of the story as written are likely to survive.

It's a humbling experience. And humility isn't my strong suit.

To keep from despairing, I'm also in the process of hammering my second novel into shape. Ever the optimist, that's me.

Interacting with an earlier me

I'm deep into editing, with the assistance of another set of eyes, my science fiction novel. Actually, this is one my my science fiction novels. The first one I completed.

And there's the rub. It's the first one. It dates from the NaNoWriMo nonsense of 2008. It was the first NaNo I'd participated in. It's a long time ago in many ways. Editor Unleashed, the blog and forum created and run by Maria Schneider, was still extant then. I even had a guest post there about my NaNo experience. My claim to fame was I was writing my novel by hand, with a fountain pen.

So, a long time ago. And it shows...

Over the years, I've gotten better. I like to think I have. That my writing, by dint of applying craft, by practicing, by writing, has gotten better. By "better", read 'readable'. Not legible - there's much more work still to do about my handwriting.

But 'readable'. Short, effective sentences. Far fewer sentences becoming, because of the piling-up of explanatory - and often sub-sub-subordinate - clauses such as this one, something of an obstacle course for the hapless, or even really interested, reader.

We've discovered far too many sentences such as the above. I don't write like that today. Not nearly so much, anyway.

Some of my early writing, even before November 2008, was formal in tone. Particularly when doing dialogue. I know I've improved there. Its ghosts walk yet in this novel.

I take heart. I can see, and hear, that my writing's improved. I can measure the distance between what I know now, and what I clearly didn't know then. Or, if known, scarcely applied.

There's much work to do to carve this novel into shape. Others I've written since aren't as bad. But I like this story. I like the characters. I won't let my ineptitude get in the way of their playing in the sun.

"They call us Dark" will see the light of day.

Songs of a Wanderer

For the past few days I've been working on a short story, one featuring my wandering "Man of the River People". The first one I wrote in which this character, Thon, appeared can be read at Short-Story.me. It's "A Song of Aine".

I have a thought about a follow on to that one, but it needs to marinate a bit more.

But, he's a wanderer, so there is ample scope for tales to be told. Someday I must find out what set his foot on the road away from the River in the first place.

I wrote a story of his wanderings with the intention of submitting it to Short-Story.me. They have a maximum limit of 2,000 words for the short stories they publish. My tale came out a couple of hundred too long.

So, on to the craft of tale telling. And it's an aspect I enjoy. The paring away, the tightening of the language, of the action. All the while hoping there's still a story left at the end of the day.

It took a few passes and I was able to rid the tale of the clumsiness that sometimes creeps in when you're not looking. Taut as a bow string.

The text editor I was using informed me I had 2,000 words to the story. There's a rightness to that - something about being just on the edge.

Of course, Microsoft Word informed me I had 1,999 words. Sigh.

So, given I believe Short-Story.me use Word (that's their preferred format in which to receive submissions), I added a single word.

Off into the world has gone my "A Song of Danard" - I'm hoping they'll like it and publish it.

We'll see.

In other news, my Year of the Dragon, Special Edition Cross fountain pen arrived today. More on that another day.