Tag: revising

Things are changing

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There’s change for the bad, and for the good. And sometimes both.

The worst part of losing a pet is having to make the decision. I kept hoping Theo would die peacefully in her sleep, but even as she lost her appetite and her ability to walk, she kept hanging on until we brought her to the vet.

The last time I lost a cat, she died in the car on the way to the emergency vet. This was the first time I went through the process of putting a cat to sleep, and it’s wrenching. She was in pain, and it was time. But I still keep thinking I hear her around the house, yowling for lunch (she was the only cat I’d ever met who insisted that cats get lunch), claws scrabbling as she hops onto the kitchen island or the stove to hunt for crumbs. My office is quieter without her barging into it. No one is claiming my space on the couch. Our other cat keeps looking around, puzzled, because he has the house to himself but no one to fight with.

There’s been a lot to adjust to this summer. We officially have a child in college and an empty bedroom (where I can finally see the floor again). We’ll be cooking for three, not four, and beginning college visits all over again for our younger one. Being a parent means planning ahead for the day when they leave you and hoping you did it more or less right.

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In the meantime, I had one horror story published by On the Premises (second-place winner!) and my feminine-rage superhero story is upcoming in an anthology by Oddity Prodigy Productions—check out the Kickstarter here. This is only the second time I’ve tried to get that story published, mainly because there aren’t many markets for original superhero stories, so I’d call that a win.

I had three—or four? Now I don’t remember—other short stories shortlisted by various publications that ultimately didn’t get selected, but making the shortlist is still exciting. All stories have bounced back out to find homes. And my fantasy novel is still in progress. Unfortunately I’m still figuring out the backstory as I go, so I look forward to completely rewriting the beginning in a few months. And then revising the whole dang thing.

Change is in the air. Here’s hoping it’s for the good. Keep writing, stay safe.

Starting over, again

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One of the hardest parts about baking—bread, biscuits, cookies, whatever—is trying not to overmix the dough. Knowing when the ingredients have more or less come together and that you haven’t whisked, mixed or kneaded them into stiffness, because otherwise the dough won’t hold its shape properly and might crack in the oven. Then you’re stuck with a final result that doesn’t represent your best work.

Is this a metaphor for writing? Please, everything is a metaphor for writing.

I’ve been wrestling with this dybbuk novel for a while. I switched the protagonist and started over. I lightened the tone. I changed up the plot. And working on it has become a series of aggravations. What did I want from this story in the first place? Why isn’t it there now?

In the meantime, I started playing with this idea for a fantasy story, as though my brain needed a break from horror. (And because of all the “Legends of Vox Machina” I’ve been watching? Maybe.) I rarely write straight-up fantasy, not because I don’t love it but because I loved it too much to write it badly. But every so often a fantasy story sneaks through. So I started writing. And kept writing, and have kept at it for weeks. Figuring out what comes next has been fun and a pleasant diversion from *gestures to all of this, closes news app in disgust*.

It’s a bad habit to leave stories unfinished to chase after the shiny new idea. But sometimes you have to leave a story alone for a while until you know how to write it properly. In that situation, writing something else is better than not writing anything.

So I’ll see where this story takes me, and when I’m ready, I’ll go back to the other story. I don’t want to overmix it, and if the original idea is good enough, it’ll be worth the wait.

Looking for magic

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I’m in a witchy mood. Maybe it was the witch-hat fascinator I was wearing last night to hand candy out to trick or treaters. (Our kids are old enough to go do their own thing, but now I get the pleasure of seeing all the teeny kids in their costumes and they are. So. Cute.) Maybe it was the schlocky horror movies I watched all month. Or maybe it was finally finishing that revision of my middle grade manuscript that maybe, maybe will be the version that gets published.

Here I am, looking for some magic to happen. Maybe I should put that fascinator back on.

At any rate, I have sent the manuscript out to a few places and doubled back on resubmitting the short stories that still need homes, and now that my head is clearer and I am fueled by leftover peanut butter cups, I can get back to writing that MG cryptid story. Or even the dybbuk horror novel, once I figure out where I’m going wrong with it.

Last month felt like a whole year for various reasons, and I’m not sure what this month is going to bring. But the sun is shining and all the Halloween decorations are still up. So maybe we should all hope for some magic.

Enjoy the sunshine, snag some candy, go vote.

Revising the revision process

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So, here’s what I’ve been working on lately.

Magazine articles. Editing projects. A middle grade manuscript-in-progress. But mainly, I’ve been revising.

My MG girl-and-golem-fight-antisemitism story that won the Sydney Taylor Manuscript Award also won a partial grant from PJ Library, and I’ve been making changes based on some of the feedback I got. The PJ Library folks have already helped me more than they realized—they asked that I submit an edited version using Track Changes in Word.

The thing is, I love Track Changes. I use it all the time as an editor. But never once did it occur to me to use it when editing my own work. Honestly? It’s a game-changer.

Making changes, deleting blocks of text, or even changing individual words can feel intimidating when it’s just words on a screen. What if I change my mind? What if my computer crashes and I forget where I was? The changes feel so permanent, even if (obviously) they’re not.

With Track Changes, I can see instantly what I’ve changed and where, and if I need to undo something, I can. Using it, I think like an editor, not a writer, and it’s freed me to look at the manuscript in a different way. I’ve made changes I never would’ve thought to make before, revamping or deleting entire scenes. (Though somehow the word count still grew. Sigh.)

I don’t know if this is the version that gets published, but I know it’s a stronger, more cohesive story than it was before, and even the previous version was strong enough to win two different work-in-progress awards. So I’ll see where this version takes me. But seriously, fellow writers, try using Track Changes if you aren’t already. The real writing is in the revising.

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It’s been a scary and sad year for many reasons, and Oct. 7 is coming up. Your Jewish friends are not okay. I’m not asking anyone to state their stance on (any aspect of) the war. All I ask is that people remember what a complex, traumatizing, long-running, maddening topic this is for so many of us, and to be respectful of that. Hoping for better times ahead for everyone.

Little lockdown victories

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So, how’s everyone doing?

How’s your sourdough starter? Your new at-home exercise routine? How are all of your Zoom meetings going?

If your answers to the above are: 1. awful, 2. sourdough what now?, 3. nonexistent and 4. where do I look on the screen, who even is talking, do I need a fancy background AAAHHH THE PRESSURE, that’s OK too.

(For the record: Banana bread is more my speed, define “exercise,” and I find Zoom confusing. And New Jersey canceled in-person classes for the rest of the school year, which was not a shock but still upsetting, so I’d say we’re doing … eh.)

We’re trying to survive a pandemic. We don’t have to accomplish great things. We don’t even have to accomplish a sourdough starter. We just need to get through the next day, the next week, the next month, until we’re out the other side, whatever that looks like.

I managed to clean out my closet, after at least five years of meaning to do it, and I’m going to take that as my big (little) lockdown victory.

So, whatever you’re able to accomplish creatively is fine too. I’ve finished revising one manuscript (which I started revising pre-lockdown) and noodled around with another. Writing anything whatsoever makes me happy. If it makes you happy, too, go for it. Two words. Eighteen words. Three chapters. Whatever you’ve got. If the thought of being creative in any sense is a crushing weight hanging over you, don’t even try. Get through the day.

And if you’re in a relatively good space, meaning you have money and food and a peaceful home, maybe you can do something to help other people. Donate to a food bank, or your local hospital. Sew masks. Give blood. (I’ve done a few of these things, except sewing masks, because that would require sewing ability. I bought my mask off Etsy.) Support the Postal Service—write someone a letter. Support your local journalists and buy a newspaper.

And I’m going to echo the advice of the two nurses and a respiratory therapist I interviewed last week for an article: If you are able to stay home, if you can afford to stay home, keep staying home. You’re not just helping yourself. You’re helping them.  

Remember it’s subjective

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Here’s where the day job is at (AKA, the newspaper/magazine writing): I heard from one editor who’s happy with my work. Then I heard from another editor who doesn’t like my work and wants changes.

And *shrugs* that’s how it goes.

Different people are going to react differently to your work. Some will love it, some will hate it, some will go “meh.” When it’s an article, or some other type of work-for-hire, well, revisions are part of the deal (which is why I’m revising). When it’s your own work — say, your novel — you’ve got a bit more leeway in how you respond to those reactions.

But here’s the key: These opinions will vary by person. This is why literary agents usually have a line about “this industry is subjective” in their rejection letters. A manuscript that leaves them feeling “meh” might completely wow the next person to read it. You are the same person, and your work is the same work, no matter who’s reading it. You can’t control the other person’s reaction.

I’m not saying writers (or artists) need to toughen up, or grow a thicker skin, or whatever other figures of speech are floating around. But it is useful to take someone’s reaction, positive or negative, and evaluate it to see if there’s anything you can learn from it. If so, then go ahead and use that feedback. If not? You’re entitled to nod politely and move on.

Your opinion of your work, in other words, should exist a little apart from the opinions of others. And it should sustain you on the negative days.

Sharing creativity

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My kids know I carry tiny purse-sized notebooks around to scribble out my rough drafts. (Moleskines are perfect—they’re the right size and they have built-in bookmarks and elastic closures—though WritersBlok notebooks are nice too.) This means they also know my works-in-progress are available if they get bored in a restaurant, waiting for their entree. Then they’re happy to provide feedback: “I like this. You should publish it.” “I read this part. Didn’t you finish it yet?” “WHAT. Why did you change it? I liked it before!”

Most recently—and yep, at a restaurant—my daughter flipped through the notebook to find a picture book idea I’d never finished. Because sometimes you start working through an idea, only to discover it isn’t working on the page as well as it did in your head. At that point you can 1. start over or 2. ditch it and focus your energies elsewhere, and that particular idea had been ditched. My daughter disagreed with my conclusion. In fact, she thought she knew how to end it, and could she write the ending? I said sure.

So she borrowed my pen and wrote the rest of the story. She got exactly the idea I’d been going for, too. And now I have written proof that she thinks highly enough of my work to want to be part of it.

Of course, she’s already appointed herself editor of all my work and has offered to illustrate it. So she’s a little ambitious.

The other day, I needed to bring my son with me to the coffee shop; he had his magazine and a muffin, I had a scone and revising to do. Once he realized what I was working on, he craned his head to see my screen. Then he moved to my other side to read my notes before I’d even gotten them typed in. Then when I was done, he asked to read something else. At which point I ceded control of my laptop and let him read my novel till it was time to go.

Sharing my work with them has been one of the best things about writing kidlit, not just because they like reading it but because they’re pretty creative in their own right. Both of them create their own comics. Both of them make art, everything from paper sculpture to pottery. It’s such a pleasure to see them expressing themselves. And maybe, possibly, they’re encouraged by watching me.

I don’t know where this creative path is going to land us, but I’m enjoying the journey.

Working big to small

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Between two book editing projects, a few smaller editing projects, my usual newspaper gig, and a case study, August was unexpectedly busy. But here I am, and I’m looking forward to more busy-ness in September (as well as a break from all the heat advisories).

In the meantime, I’ve been revising a few stories of my own as well as working on the next story, and beginning research for the story after that. And I keep relying on advice from my drawing teacher.

Nope, I am not a professional artist. I have just enough talent to know how much more I would need to be a professional artist. But I love art in all its forms, from gallery paintings to comics, and I take art classes for fun. My teacher for the past few sessions is an excellent artist, helpful in all aspects of technique, and there are a few things he says regularly. One is that you have to study an object pretty thoroughly before you can draw it, instead of just glancing at it and rushing your pencil into action. Another is that you need to work “big to small”—that is, sketch in the big shapes first, figure out where all pieces are in relation to each other, then start to add in the details.

Turns out his advice works pretty well for writing, too. Even pantsers—and I am definitely a pantser—have to know a few basics before they start writing in earnest. Be a reporter: Know the who, what, when, where, why, and how. In other words, study before you draw.

And work out the character arcs, plot, beginning, and ending before you stress about the color of the curtains in the living room, or whether you’re using the right word to describe the sound of your protagonist’s voice in one scene. Sketch in the most important things first, and swing back later for the details. Work big to small.

I didn’t expect to get good writing advice from art class, but I’m calling it an extra-credit lesson, and will use it to the fullest.

Happy reading and writing this month.