August 11th, 2011%
I brought my latest short story to this year’s Tin House Summer Workshop hoping for an ending.
I had no intention of writing another scene. The characters were going to have to work it out within the bounds of the current version. I had four scenes. A luxury, really, but I just couldn’t break open the main character so she’d take the bait, like the guy, and freak-out at the end. This was the map I wanted to draw.
Everything I threw at these characters was thrown back at me.
- White hot story pacing
- Character banter like battle armor
- Insecurity traps and mind games
- A robbery
After the workshop, the first thing I did was tighten the noose with setting descriptions. This slowed down the dialogue, built a little more tension and helped anchor the reader in the last scene. I couldn’t figure out plot, but I knew they got out of a car and walked so I described that in detail. At least I was fixing something, even if I didn’t know what was supposed to happen at the end.
The main character still wouldn’t break, but the workshop had validated my hunch on where she would break in the banter. I tested those spots after each round of edits. Nothing.
A friend from the workshop reread the draft and suggested that I should draw out the first scene (do more show than tell). This helped set the trap and open up some opportunities. I also spun in some quirks and mind games. Threading them through the story helped me to bust up the banter to show some character vulnerability.
When the character finally broke, I touched up the ending and deleted a lot of the new stuff to get back to the bones of the story. The whole process reminded me of Piranha.
April 28th, 2011%
I’ve got a month to get my next story in shape for this year’s Tin House Summer Workshop. I started last year’s story with dialogue. This year’s story started with a character.
I want to be on the brink of my writing ability when I go to the workshop. I figure I’ll get the best feedback if I get the story to the point of my own limitations. When I can’t possibly add or subtract without destroying or drastically changing the story, it’s ready. I’ve saved eight drafts in case I need to dig for lost sentences while I develop the character who is supposed to guide me through edits.
Other preparation includes the following:
- I had my best reader give me a philosophical reading of the characters within the context of the story.
- I read Mystery and Manners by Flannery O’Connor to humble and prepare me to take advice.
- I posted a current draft in The Woodshed which is an online workshop hosted on Fictionaut.com. The Woodshed currently has 23 members and allows you to edit your draft between comments so each reader can comment on the most recent version. I received five comments in a week which was perfect for gaining some editing momentum and developing the characters a bit more.
At last year’s Tin House Summer Workshop, Charles D’Ambrosio told me to eliminate abstraction and focus on concrete writing. I also got some suggestions for more detail and a collection of reader reactions from the rest of the workshop participants which helped me fine-tune.
I’m not sure this story has a concrete foundation, but I know it’s way better than last year’s. Plus, I got up in the middle of the night with a great ending that should guide the middle section to align with the other parts.
April 11th, 2011%
Writing and editing cannot be done simultaneously. Writing requires freedom. Editing requests boundaries.
Yet, a writer can spend a significant amount of time setting boundaries throughout the writing process based on feedback and guidance from others.
When Tracy Kidder came to Portland, he mostly talked about his editor of 40 years, Richard Todd. I will admit to being both jealous and appalled at the depth of their writing relationship, which crossed the line between what I felt should be the writer’s “inner voice” and the editors “guiding voice.” Todd seemed to direct the craft of writing while Kidder was a content hunter/gatherer.
My opinions are probably based on a lack of experience with writing for publication.
Editors often suggest changes after accepting a story. Salvatore Pane from Corium helped me get rid of some lingering abstraction which interfered with the story’s rhythm and challenged me to come up with a new ending. A few of my friends had commented on the ending not being so great so I wrote a new one which was used with the final version.
Pre-publication editing can be much more refined than workshop feedback which can and should break a story where it needs to be broken and reset; however, Cheston Knapp from Tin House said he will sometimes invest in a few editing rounds for certain stories with the caveat that the writer has presented their most final, best effort.
When you can’t find your next move, you may ask someone to read what you’ve done or send it off to a few places to see if they want it. I usually find several edits immediately after doing either which may mean I just need to send it to myself.
Most likely, there will be a few more edits needed before publication.
March 29th, 2011%
When certain characters grow out of the lines I’ve loved, I want to track down a character who can say them in the next story.
These things happen. You’ve designated clear boundaries, idiosyncrasies, and expectations for a character. The beginning of your story is your story. Then, another side of the character emerges somewhere in the middle and finds a better ending than the one you couldn’t think of.
So now, you have to figure out how to edit the beginning to be more consistent with the ending. You start to wonder what kind of character would say these lines. Where do they need to be? Who do they need to know? You’d be happy to arrange it all, if only you knew.
The next story will be your first attempt. It may fail, but it has a beginning.
Rarely, if ever, do I get an urge to meet someone who wrote what I read and loved; however, I will ruthlessly stalk a character willing to deliver some choice lines and possibly give me some more lines like them.
The story will be a negotiation. No losers. No winners. Maybe another story.
February 21st, 2011%
Reading and rereading is critical for editing. Rhythm, patterns, and craft weakness become apparent. Characters become acquaintances rather than an amalgam of intent.
I always reread to the section where I am actively writing, making minor changes to dialogue, description, and action on my way. This generally occurs after wholesale rearrangement of paragraphs and sections, when the bones of the story are in place.
At some point writing becomes editing, and the characters become independent.
A writer can choose to kick-start life at any targeted age, so it’s not like revisions can be calibrated like dog years to yield a certain hoped for maturity; however, the writer is essentially raising their characters through numerous revisions so that the characters start making their own decisions and acting without the writer directing them.
When characters become independent or mature, I know they’re going to take me somewhere cool. The story gets more layers because I get to notice what they notice, rather than guess at what I need to make-up to make something seem realistic.
Maturity shouldn’t be confused with reliable. Characters get lazy. They provide false endings. They disappear during dialogue. The writer still needs to provide discipline and coax the characters to finish the story.
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Writer Loop Official Photographer Jenny Hoover currently lives in Bellingham, WA.
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