Mine Field and Gold Mine: Why You Should Read Your Primal Posts

Since my imagination seems to be in a bit of a dry patch when it comes to blogging these days, I decided to explore the wonderful world of reruns. The hope is to recycle some of my original posts that may have escaped general notice the first time around. Luckily (?), plenty of the Internet paid absolutely no attention to me for quite some time, so I’ve got a bumper crop of possibilities at my personal website. But my ongoing trip down blog-memory lane is not what this post is about. As often happens, my exploration in one direction led me some place unexpected.

Reading my first attempts at blogging reminded me of some wisdom I picked up somewhere, way back when, before I had a website (you know, a couple of years ago). Like most good advice, it was simple: the wise one said that all bloggers need to make a habit of reading their old posts and correcting/updating them as needed.

The wise one was right. I know this because, to date, I have completely and utterly failed to take the wise one’s advice. And my oldest posts reflect that. If you, like me, have gotten into the habit of publishing one of these things and then pretty much forgetting about it, then you, like me, might be surprised by what you find in the dustier corners of your archives.

It’s sometimes feels like a different person wrote them.

At first, I thought to share some of my choicest new-blogger gems here. But then it occurred to me that I would just be highlighting what is essentially mediocre writing worsened by bad editing. It occurred to me that might not be the wisest course of action for a freelance writer and editor to take. Though, if you hurry, you can still probably catch lots of the typos and bad grammar I haven’t gotten to yet. I am, after all, still the same procrastinating person I was before. And there are quite a few of those old posts. This process is definitely going to take some time.

But it’s proving beneficial on two fronts: I’m not only hiding my shame, I’m also discovering the various ways my writing has improved. (Yes, I like to think what you’re currently reading represents an improvement.) The biggest example of my writer-ly maturation has been seeing how my voice has matured.

So go back and read your primal blog posts, you might be glad you did. At the very least, you’ll probably catch a few of the typos you missed.

A Turkey Day Miracle!

I just wanted to share a little Turkey Day miracle I experienced this year.

I recently took on a ghost writing project. Obviously, I’m not free to go into any detail about it, but I was basically hired to help on a manuscript that had stalled out during revisions.

The author and I had been batting big ideas back and forth for several weeks with the goal of generating an outline. It was slow going and frustrating for both of us as we brought our very different perspectives to the project. But the slog finally paid off. Only — as is often the case with revisions and miracles — this pay-off ended up looking nothing like I expected.

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I finally emailed an outline to the author. But that wasn’t the miracle. No. The miracle occurred on the other end of the exchange. It seems the author had, totally unbeknownst to me, been busy rewriting his entire manuscript while we were discussing and (as far as I could tell) butting heads over some pretty major elements of his story. Soon after I was hired, I had suggested an idea for a substantial change I felt would solidify the hero’s character arc and give the reader a better empathetic focal point. We had agreed to implement this change, but we couldn’t seem to come together on how. And, with the holiday season fast approaching, I was running out of time. In addition to all the normal Yule-time crap, I still work backstage on Ballet Austin’s Nutcracker. So I tend to get very busy with non-writer things in December.

But, like I said, the author I’m working for had been furiously revising in response to our discussions. And he had taken his story in a whole new direction that simplified and clarified and generally turned the whole thing around. I found the fruits of his labors waiting in my inbox on the morning after Thanksgiving.

Nitpicking can be a good thing

Here’s where we get into the miracle. Which is, simply put, that this writer had not only fixed a lot of the problems with his story, he also reminded me why I love to edit. And, more importantly, he showed me the incredible power an editor has. Even if an editor doesn’t “get you,” even if an editor seems to do nothing but nitpick and ask annoying questions, he or she can still help because all those questions and comments will force you to look at your work in a new way. And those questions and comments – no matter how far off base they may feel – should force you to think about why you’ve made those choices. Even better, your editor’s nagging will make you figure out ways to fight for what you decide is important. And they’ll make you clarify the $64,000 question of why you wrote the thing in the first place.

Which is exactly what happened during my Turkey Day Miracle. The moral? It’s simple: take the time and effort (and risk) to find qualified people to react to your work while you’re working on it. And listen to them, especially when you don’t agree with what they’re saying. You’ll almost always be glad you did.

College Football and Revising: Who Knew They Had So Much in Common

Before getting to the blogpost proper, I have an invitation: come visit me October 25th or 26th at the Texas Book Festival!

I’ll be hanging out with E. Kristin Anderson in the Yellow Bird booth. Okay, we’re only in half a booth because we’re sharing with The Writing Barn. But that’s even more reason to stop by. Between Yellow Bird’s editors and the always amazing programming at The Writing Barn, you can probably find a lot of the help you’re looking for to get your WIP whipped into shape. And, as always, we’ll have candy while supplies last, not to mention coupons good toward the cost of future editing.

And the Free Query Letter Raffle is back on!

But you have enter in person at the Texas Book Festival. So stop by Saturday or Sunday, the 25th or 26th(this month). Bring all your questions about freelance editing and get a little sugar fix while you explore the festival.

This concludes the announcement portion of the post.

(Please don’t stop reading.)

I am a fan of UT football. Especially this season. I can’t remember ever being more proud of my alma mater’s football team than I have been this fall.

No. Seriously.

But they suck this year, you may be saying. And with a 2-4 record, you’d arguably be right. Unless you look more closely.

When I watch the Longhorn football team I can’t help thinking of the ways talented but immature writers have to struggle with themselves. Watching Coach Strong doggedly implement his ‘don’t be a dick’ policy with his players, regardless of the short-term cost, reminds me of my own ongoing — sometimes rocky — development as a writer.

I couldn’t help empathizing with UT last Saturday when they beat OU in almost every way except the final score. Their opening drive was a perfect example of what I mean. They ended up moving the ball down the field despite repeated self-sabotage (in this case, multiple stupid penalties) and somehow still managed to put points on the board. They kept showing flashes of brilliance, only to undercut themselves each time. Then they gave up a touchdown on the ensuing kickoff. And that’s pretty much how it went the rest of the day: 1. Sprint Ahead, 2. Shoot Own Foot, 3. Repeat ad nauseum.

Like a writer clinging to a scene or image that’s brilliant but just doesn’t fit his story, this Longhorn team clings to its former — let’s just call it traditional — superstar athlete mindset. But like a good editor – come on, you knew I was headed there, it’s an editors’ blog – Coach Strong keeps pointing them in what he sees as the right direction, insisting on a level of self-discipline and commitment a lot of his players obviously struggle with.

UT’s new coach has fired a lot of talented young stars. But like an editor confronted with that brilliant but not quite right scene, he knows that sometimes you just have to make the ruthless cut. Push delete and keep focused on the big picture. Get through that first season as best you can and build your program from there. I just hope he gets a chance to finish his revisions.

Because, unlike an editor working with a writer, the whole world’s watching Charlie Strong and the Longhorns go through their rewrite process. That’s got to be rough.

Oh, and Hook ‘Em!

Motivation and Voice

I’ve been having this conversation in one way or another since grad school. It comes through in different ways and at different times, but it’s always the same theme. Most recently, I had it at the Writing Barn’s Full Novel Revision Workshop – which felt like a tiny slice of grad school, so I guess that makes sense. Most times in this conversation more experienced writers talk to less experienced ones about the need to be ready to hear good advice.

Since I was often the less experienced half of the discussion, I would nod right along like I knew what they meant. Even better, I wrote down everything everybody said at conferences and classes and then promptly forgot most of it. I let the information wash right through me and into my notebook without sticking. And my work showed it.

Writers can generally be divided into two categories: those who care about creating the best work they can and those who write to show how clever they are. Sorry if that sounds harsh. But I’m really not judging. Well, except maybe myself.

For me, this vanity-writing stage was a necessary step along the path to becoming … well, a real writer. I had to work through why I write. For decades I had used my creativity to basically show off. Ever since that first little poster board diorama I made in Sunday school and peopled with costumed plastic spoons, I’ve been telling stories and dealing out one-liners in the hopes of being deemed clever.

Needless to say, I didn’t exactly enjoy learning this about myself. But it shamed me into not putting my ego so blatantly onto the page.

It’s still there, don’t get me wrong. A little piece of me will probably always get crushed every time I learn I haven’t, in fact, created a chunk of prose all humanity must surely agree is perfect. But it’s a much littler piece now. And it’s morphed into a sort of spiritual lizard’s tail that breaks off before any permanent self-esteem damage can occur.

I fear that last metaphor may have pushed this post into the realm of accidental irony, so I’ll get back to the point. Put simply, a writer’s attitude toward writing translates quite blatantly to the page. The ‘why’ matters.

In fact, I think a writer’s motivation for creating comes through (or not) in that indefinable concept known as voice. I’ve based my conclusions purely on self-observation, so I’m hardly being scientific here. But I can tell you that I only began to find my voice after years of receiving honest and supportive (if sometimes heartbreaking) feedback and advice. This includes all that literary wisdom I ignored, by the way. Because somewhere deep inside I guess I always knew those great writers and readers were right. Why else did I keep seeking them out?

Or maybe I’m just I’m bullheaded and clueless.

Either way, it all gelled at some point, and I stopped taking notes and started listening. I started to apply what I was learning to both myself and my work. And that included an honest assessment of the ‘why’ of my own writing. Did I want to keep clinging to my need for praise, or did I want to create the best work I was capable of?

Okay, fine. I decided I wanted both. Just not in the same proportions as before. Now I write (and revise) to make the story better, not to showcase my clever wordplay. And that shift in motivation — along with a lot of time at the keyboard — has allowed my voice to emerge.

At least I hope it has. I’ve gotten a little nervous about the whole unintentional irony thing again.

An Introduction to Track Changes

Track Changes is the language of editors. As a writer, you need to speak it because, sooner or later, you will have to deal with it. This post is an introduction to the Track Changesfeature in Microsoft Word. I am a PC person, so I will be referring to how it works in the Windows operating system. If you’re one of those Mac people, then this post should still be helpful, although you may have to do some translating. (For context, here are links to two Youtube videos by Terence Jorgensen–one for PC, one for Mac–that I think you’ll find useful.)

In my version of Word (2010), there’s a row of tabs across the top of the document window. If you click onReview (2nd from the right), you’ll see the editing tool bar appear (replacing whichever one you were in before, probably Home). You’ll also see it’s divided up into sections from left to right (labels along the bottom): Proofing, Language, Comments, Tracking, Changes, Compare, and Protect. I’ll just be looking at the buttons in the Comments, Tracking, and Changes sections.

First off, in the Tracking section, you’ll see a button labelled Track Changes. Hover your cursor over it and you’ll see that either the top or bottom half turns yellow. That’s because it’s a split button: click on the top half (with the page and pencil icon) and you toggle the Track Changes feature on or off for the entire document. If you click on that part, both halves turn yellow signifying that Track Changes is on.

Click on just the bottom half and you get a dropdown menu allowing you to modify the Track Changessettings. The first option on this dropdown menu is merely a duplicate Track Changes toggle switch. Below it is the Change Tracking Options feature. This opens a window where you can customize whatTrack Changes looks like. Feel free to play around here a bit and get to know your options. Jorgensen does a great job explaining this part in his videos, so go there if you want to learn more about that. I mostly just use the default settings because they work fine for me.

The third and final choice on the Change Tracking Options menu deals with the user name. This is useful when you have multiple editors or authors working on a document. Or if you use a pen name or alias. To use this feature just enter the appropriate user name and initials in the boxes under Personalize Your Copy of Microsoft Word and click the Okay button at the bottom right. Keep in mind that doing this changes the author name for everything you do in Word from that moment forward. It’s not specific to the document you’re working on. So be sure it’s reset to the appropriate name after you’re done.

Next to the Track Changes button(s) you’ll see a stack of three buttons with little down-pointing arrows next to them: Final: Show Markup, Show Markup, and Reviewing Pane. Click on any of these to get their dropdown menus. Starting at the top, click on Final: Show Markup to see your four choices for viewing your document. These allow you to compare and contrast your original draft with your “final” draft (the one that has the changes in it).

The middle button, Show Markup, allows you to choose what changes, including comments, you see on the screen. Simply check or uncheck the boxes to customize what changes are highlighted. I like to keep them all in view.

And rounding out the bottom comes the Reviewing Pane button. Click on the left side where the words are and you get a list of all the changes that have been made. This can be useful when trying to decipher and navigate a heavily edited page. If you click on the little down-pointing arrow section of the Reviewing Panebutton, you can select a vertical or horizontal layout for your list of changes and comments.

Next, let’s move on to the mechanics of making changes and comments. Again, the videos give a nice visual of what editing and commenting looks like.

To make a comment in the margins of a document (as opposed to an actual change), simply click on the New Comment button in the Comments section of the tool bar (just to the left of the Tracking section). The three buttons to the right of New Comment (Delete, Previous,Next) remain grayed out and unusable until the document actually contains comments. Once you start commenting they “light up” and activate. They’re mostly self-explanatory, except Delete is a split button. Click on the down-pointing arrow and you’ll get a drop down menu that lets you choose to cut the comment you currently have highlighted, all comments shown (I have no idea what this does or even means; it’s always grayed out as far as I can tell), or all the comments in the document.

On the other side of the Tracking section, you’ll findChanges. This section contains the buttons you’ll use the most as a writer receiving feedback. Again, these are pretty self-explanatory, except to note that both Acceptand Reject are split buttons with tiny dropdown menus giving you more options.

There are two points the videos don’t touch on that I want to close with. First, if you right-click on a change or comment in the body of the document, a small window will pop-up. In there you’ll see Accept and Reject buttons. This is just another way to navigate the changes and comments. And lastly, never forget the Undo button in the very upper left corner next to the floppy disc (Save) icon. You can always hit that and make whatever horrible mistake you just made go away.

Happy revising!