I Hate Editing

I do. I absolutely hate looking at a rough copy of a novel.

Writing is a freeing experience, like free fall, SCUBA diving over the abyssal plains, or flying.

Editing is the nasty shock at the end of free fall, or when you you see a Megalodon screaming up at you from the depths, or your engine cuts out.

Ready to stab my novel to death yesterday I wrote my crit partner about my frustration. Her response, as always, was spot on:

You inevitably hate the book. But you come out the other side, too. There is light. You CAN get to the point where you like it again.

Another friend added:

Usually it's about when you have the manuscript tied down to a bunch of logs and sprinkled with tinder. As you're lighting the match, you'll happen to glance down, and oh my gosh! Magic really does happen. There is gold there, not the sludge you know was there only moments before. I'm convinced this is due to the manuscript's deep rooted survival instinct.

The work is hard and might make you sick to your stomach—it does me—but it will be worth it in the end.

I spent hour yesterday reading through the first 32 pages of my novel and noting errors on a side page.

The system Amy Laurens has created keeps the printed copy clean of editing marks until the end. You start by taking notes on world building, characters (I honestly didn't realize I had so many characters named!), rough spots, and golden moments.

It isn't an original idea. There are several classes, books, and systems of editing that follow this same idea: Identify all your problems before you rewrite and clean.

Fixing spelling is the last thing you do. And oh do I need to fix things! I have lions walking out of laves, soldiers reaching for gnus, and Rona Running everywhere! Either I need to change her name, or she needs to walk.

Another 32 pages are up for dissection today. We'll see how much I cry.