Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.

[seanan_mcguire]

There are a lot of ways to edit. Mostly, I edit on the computer, feeding drafts to my dedicated pool of machete-wielding psychopaths and trusting them to give me back something bloody, beaten, and better than it began. I also do a lot of my own rewriting, but like so many, I've "gone green," working almost entirely in the virtual world. It's not uncommon for a book to make it through multiple drafts without ever existing in a physical form. Not bad for a girl whose first two books were written entirely on typewriter, huh? (And no, you can't read them.)

Sometimes, though, the damage is too deep, and you need to take a new approach to making things not be broken. That's where the red-line edits come in. I have printed a copy of Late Eclipses—yes, the entire multi-hundred page epic—and am now going through it chapter by chapter with the red pen. It's fascinating. Passive voice and wishy-washy modifiers fall before the tide of crimson ink like trees going down before a particularly dedicated logging crew. Things that looked just fine on the screen make me cringe when I see them on paper. And then I fix them. Because I can.

There are definite limitations to the red-line process, not the least of which is "you have to carry whatever it is you're working on." But I gotta say, when I get to this particular level of nit-picky correction, where it feels like the book is winning, it's nice to know that I have a dark alley to lure the text unsuspectingly down. And in that alley, I have a brick. A brick made entirely of red ink and causing pain.

Sometimes my taste in metaphors worries me. But my manuscript looks like it's been the victim in a low-budget slasher film, so I really don't care.

Comments

[greektoomey.livejournal.com]

It's a story written & illustrated by Edward Gorey, detailing one author's process of novel-writing, from start to finish. It's genius.

"Mr. C(lavius) F(rederick) Earbrass is, of course, the well-known novelist. Of his books, A Moral Dustbin, More Chains Than Clank, Was It Likely?, and the Hipdeep trilogy are, perhaps, the most admired. ...

On November 18th of alternate years Mr Earbrass begins writing 'his new novel.' Weeks ago he chose its title at random from a list of them he keeps in a little green note-book. It being tea-time of the 17th, he is alarmed not to have thought of a plot to which The Unstrung Harp might apply, but his mind will keep reverting to the last biscuit on the plate.

If you don't wish to pay collectors' pricing, the best way to get it is in the anthology Amphigorey (http://www.amazon.com/Amphigorey-Edward-Gorey/dp/0399504338/), which also contains oodles more brilliance that I suspect you will find precisely tailored to your particular sense of humor, for example, this excerpt from The Listing Attic:

Each night Father fills me with dread,
When he sits on the foot of my bed;
I'd not mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks,
But for seventeen years he's been dead.

[seanan-mcguire.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's cool.