Today is an editing day. I’ve been up for two and a half hours, and all I’ve done so far is pull up my manuscript and my timeline. I really don’t need the spreadsheet as I’m not writing fresh content. I want to write fresh content. I want to sit with my Alphasmart on my lap and let the story unfold. Here’s what happens when it does:
“Last month I had my girlfriends over for brunch. One of them insisted I sign up, and they all made a big deal about it. They’re the ones I went to the symphony with on Friday.”
“Ah, so you did tell them about running away from my kiss.”
“No, I did not. I didn’t tell them much about you at all except that I’d enjoyed our evening.”
“So I’m your secret.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Tell me more about this brunch.”
“Why? What do you want to know? It was just a girls day in.”
“My favorite kind.”
“Oh, so that’s it. You’re looking for prurient details.”
“The only kind worth hearing about.”
“Well, the only kind you’ll get from me will bore you to tears. Or put you on the defensive.”
“You talked about men.”
“Of course.”
“Hmm.”
“As if you and your friends don’t talk about women.”
“Not in anyway you want to hear about.”
“Exactly.”
Now, see, all of that makes perfect sense to me, and if it were go in a book and I were reading it, I could picture where these two characters were, what they were wearing, their tone of voice, their facial expressions, their body language. Unfortunately, I’m the only one living in my head, so I have to take all of that and turn it into something that works for readers. That’s why today is an editing day. It’s stormy, getting cold, and there will be no outside writing until normal weather returns on Monday or so.
I don’t want to edit. Editing takes time. Involved thought rather than free flowing. I have to make sure I’m not being repetitive, redundant, boring . . . But obviously nothing will ever get done if I don’t turn off the Internet, so good-bye.
