"But It's Fine the Way It Is . . . "

I’m leading a workshop about indie and traditional publishing at the Breathe Writers’ Conference this October. This is my second year being involved with the conference (sat on an authors’ panel last year) and I’m looking forward to it.

It’s also my wife’s second year leading a workshop. Last year, she spoke about finding the time and space to write (she also wrote a book on the topic, which you can buy here). This year, she’s delivering a talk she’s been working on for some time, on a topic about which she’s very passionate: editing your work. Seriously, that’s what she decided to speak on. Editing.

Now, I suppose that makes sense, considering that, in addition to having been called “[one] of the greatest up-and-coming fiction writers today” by the Saturday Evening Post, she has also worked in the publishing industry for more than a decade, in both editorial and marketing capacities. She loves putting words together, then moving them around, then losing some, then nixing the whole thing and starting over. That’s her idea of a swell time.

She also likes moving furniture around, so there’s that.

I, on the other hand, am the opposite. I like to find the best arrangement right off the bat and leave things be. That couch goes there, and it stays there. That semicolon goes there and I have no intention of moving it. If I didn’t want it there, I wouldn’t have pushed the little key with the semicolon on it. Suffice it to say, editing my writing is not among my favorite pastimes.

Let me just quickly acknowledge that different people work different ways here. Some writers do their best work when they just vomit everything out onto the page and then later sift through it for what’s good, rearrange it, etc., like that one scene in Columbiana with the flashdrive and the puke (which is probably a double-loser of a simile, in that it’s both really gross and also a reference to a movie that only like sixteen people ever saw). Others (people like me) like to work it all out internally, running through every idea, word, and phrase mentally (and, sometimes, orally and aurally, using a digital recorder) before putting anything to paper. And by paper, I of course mean this ten-year-old word processor.

Both methods have strengths and weaknesses, but the major weakness of my school is that we tend to convince ourselves that there is no need to edit. When you’ve lovingly, mentally caressed the words into exactly the right shape (note: we have left the “words as vomit” metaphor behind at this point), you are loathe to change that shape or—μὴ γένοιτο!—slash some words out of existence. And when someone else (say, my editor at HarperCollins) wants to get in there with the mallet and the scalpel, my first instinct is to defend with all necessary force. That’s step one: plant feet, raise battle axe, and shout This is Spartaaaaa! I’m only on my second time through this process, but I can already identify the rest of the steps:

• 2. Remember that I am contractually obligated to go through the editorial process and that everyone has do to it and that I’m not a beautiful-and-unique snowflake.
• 3. Bite the bullet and try to change just enough to appease the editor.
• 4. Realize that the book is getting better.
• 5. Go back through with the editor’s notes, with an actual open mind that these changes (the vast majority anyway) might improve the book.
• 6. Finish the back-and-forth with the editor and discover that the book is far better than the one I originally submitted.

I don’t want to move the couches around, but once they’ve been feng shuied to perfection, I do realize they look better and then I find myself ready to viciously defend the new configuration.

Here’s a couple photos to illustrate. They’re totally extraneous at this point, but they were what initially prompted me to write this post, so it seems a shame not to include them:

This is the south wall of my study. It has looked like this for almost a decade (see also: never moving things around). However, I recently acquired a bunch more books, necessitating more shelves (this little square was pretty much the only wall-space not covered in bookshelves).  I knew I’d need to make room for the coffee maker (and, heck, why not also get an espresso machine?), but the rest of the space would still more than accommodate all my new books. Naturally, I was loathe to mess with it, but when my wife started dropping hints about the stacks of books blocking access to her own new bookshelf at home, I finally jumped in and started the project.

Here’s what it looks like now. Upon surveying the completed project, my first thought was, "Wow! It really looked kind of cluttered and junky before, with all that stuff piled and stacked everywhere." I mean, it was fine the way it was and I was happy to look at it every day, but it’s much better now and I would definitely not click the UNDO button, if that were an option in real life.

So the point is: do yourself a favor. Try a little rearranging. Listen to your editor, your critique group, your beta-readers and just give it a try. You may find that you love it. I mean, not that you love editing. Editing is still the worst. But you may love where it gets you.

You Changed My Title.

So I'm experiencing all this Big Publisher stuff for the first time, firsthand. (My wife works for a major publisher, frequently from home, so I've watched much of the process from a detached distance many times over.) You tell yourself you're going to be ready for the editor's notes and the possibility that they might change your title and not like your cover concept, and you're going to be the least-difficult author they've ever had. 

But then it actually happens. And you feel the little man who lives in your ego poking his head out, saying, "You're wrong; all my ideas are perfect."  <sigh>

The title I wanted for my book was Demoniac. I thought it was punchy, evocative, memorable, etc. They thought it sounded like a horror story (when it's actually a character-driven suspense-slash-action-slash-comedy with supernatural elements). They also thought people would have a hard time pronouncing it (is it a long or short O?) I hated their first alternate suggestion, but tried to get used to it. Then I finally told them I hated it and together we came up with a title we can all love.

The new title is Playing Saint.  It's got layers of meaning (i.e., the main character Parker Saint is acting the part of a Christian and someone else is "playing him" as well). It's punchy, it rolls off the tongue easily, and I think it's fairly memorable.

And here's the thing: it's way better than Demoniac.

The same thing is true about the notes I received from my editor and a freelance editor. Some of them would have changed the essence of the story, so I pushed back on those. Others were obviously great ideas. Still others needed some time to digest and some back-and-forth to refine.  But at the end of the day, it will be far better. The book on bookstore shelves next October will be far and away better than the book that would have existed if I had gone the self-controlled imprint route again.

You may be worried about getting tied to an agent and submitting your work to publishers, afraid that you'll lose control and what comes out at the end of the day won't really be you. But the truth is that it will be the best version of you it can be.

And I think, especially for a Christian, the exercise of letting go and listening to others and letting them improve you, is a vital one and will serve us well in developing our character and refining us as people and as disciples.

My Brain is in Texas.

...or at least my laptop is. Who would have thought that Samsung's US headquarters would be in Fort Worth? And who would have thought it takes a laptop-sized package nearly a full week to get from Michigan to the Lone Star state, using the UPS label they provided? And if it cost twelve bucks to send it that slowly, how much would it have cost to send it in, say, two or three days?
 
At any rate, I've got no laptop, so I have not been blogging or tweeting much or updating new chapters for 42 Months Dry. Hopefully, I'll have the thing back in the next few days and get back in the swing of things. I hate having to steal onto other people's computers when they're not looking . . .