Category Archives: Writing

Getting Back In the Groove

Hello, strangers! It has been some time since I got to write on this blog and I’m not going to lie–I missed it, as well as all of you. I’ve spent the past couple days trying to get caught up reading all the awesome posts I missed from the past two weeks and now I finally have time to write on. And while I do plan to write one talking about some highlights from my most recent vacation, today, I want to talk about something else.

About writing.

About getting excited about writing.

As you may have read in a previous post, I decided to revamp and completely rewrite my science fiction tragedy, once titled THE RESISTANCE. I have no idea what it’s going to be titled now. This revamp includes majorly altering the plot, changing not only the gender of my main character, but the personality, as well, not to mention a shit-ton of research I should have already done for the first draft and changing the POV from third person to first. Not only will this be my first novel writing featuring a female protagonist (I know, I know, way overdue), but it’s also my first novel-length work I’m going to attempt to write in first person.

When I first decided to make this change–that this change was necessary, in order for this story to ever work–I won’t lie: I was dreading the work involved. I was dreading the idea of completely throwing out an entire manuscript and starting over. But I knew I was making the right call and decided, once I got back from vacation, I’d tackle this massive revision project.

It took me a couple days to gather the guts to get started, but this afternoon, I worked on an outline for two hours.

And friends, it felt amazing.

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I only wrote out the backstory, the history, of the world and what happened before the story I want to tell takes place. And in doing that, I came up with a list of about half a dozen things I need to research–things that are completely out of my realm of expertise and I think are going to take a bit more than your average Google search to understand; not to mention I also discovered another dozen+ questions that I need to figure out the answers to, before I even think of trying to write out my conflict and map out my plot, beat by beat.

Even though I only worked on it for two hours, I already felt the daunting overwhelming feeling start to creep up; the feeling that I’m in over my head, that what I’m setting to achieve is impossible.

Yet even that feeling couldn’t mask my excitement.

Yes, there is a lot of work to do ahead of me. Yes, there are a lot of questions I don’t have answers to yet and aspects I need to research. Yes, it’s going to suck to, in a sense, rewrite completely a story I’ve already written. But the first draft sucked. It wasn’t what I wanted and it wasn’t what that story deserved. And I still want to tell that story. And the more I brainstorm and the more I research, the more excited I get about this story’s potential.

And damn, it just feels good to write again.



So You Didn’t Make It Into Pitch Wars

If you are a part of or follow the writing community on Twitter–especially if you follow writing contests hosted on Twitter–then you know that today, August 24th, is a pretty big day.

It’s the day Pitch Wars mentors announce who they’ve chosen as their mentees.

I was one of the hopefuls this year. That status didn’t change to a mentee.

Obviously, there’s a lot of emotions resulting from that. Sadness. Disappointment. Confusion. Hurt. Anger. Discouragement. Jealousy. And if you’re one of the many–one of the majority–who also didn’t go from hopeful to mentee in the span of an announcement blog post (a blog post that reflected weeks and weeks of hard work and even harder choices by the entire Pitch War staff), you might be feeling any combination of those emotions, too, amongst others.

You may, like me, be feeling a little like Hiccup.

Hiccup. The son of Stoick, the leader of the Vikings. Hiccup, who by his own father, not to mention everyone else in the clan, was labeled as scrawny, weak and a nuisance. Everything the Vikings stood for and valued and exhibited, Hiccup seemed to lack. He was the first Viking who refused to kill a dragon, something that was sacred to their customs and necessary for their survival.

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When you think about the Hiccup in that story, you could easily feel discouraged or sad or angry. How can the clan be so against one of their own? How could they discriminate so? How does Hiccup keep going and keep fighting, staying positive, when he seems to not fit into the world that surrounds him?

But you can’t forget that Hiccup (^^) is the same Viking who was the first to ride a dragon.

Toothless. A Nightfury, the most dangerous dragon to exist and the most mysterious. Hiccup not only took down a Nightfury with a device he created himself, but he also befriended one, created a device to help Toothless fly, discovered the real reason why the dragons targeted the Vikings and their settlement, put a stop to that reason and then completely reversed the Viking culture, including dragons within their every day life, thus improving that every day life.

When you look at this side of Hiccup, you can’t help but cheer for him and feel elated, excited, inspired. Here is someone who is capable of doing great things, of taking charge, rising above challenges and creating new paths that were unbeknownst before.

Here’s the thing, though: that Hiccup is one and the same.

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The Hiccup that everyone got annoyed with because he spent more time tinkering with experiments and less time swinging a sword is the same Hiccup that showed mercy to a dragon when killing Toothless would have erased all the negative things his people said about him. The Hiccup that set the Viking settlement on fire during a dragon attack is the same Hiccup that earned the trust of a dragon to ride one.

The Hiccup that failed is the same Hiccup that succeeded.

So…how does this possibly tie in with getting rejected in Pitch Wars?

Because we’re all Hiccups.

As writers, we all have days where we feel like the black sheep amongst the village, where we feel like we don’t fit in. How could my story about droids taking over the world and annihilating the human race make it onto the NYT #1 Bestseller List, when all of those books exhibit X trait and Y qualities, and I’m not even published yet? We all have days where we doubt what we are (writers) and question why we’re even trying when we’ve failed so many times before. Can I really claim to be a good writer when I still confuse when it’s appropriate to use “who’s” and “whose”? Or when I can never spell “virtuous” right the first time, even though it’s in the title of my manuscript? We all have days and moments when what we write is shit, our stories aren’t flowing, we misspell a word in a query to our dream agent, we vent our frustrations online, we doubt every sentence we write, we feel like claiming to be a writer is a fraud.

We all have days when we don’t get chosen as mentors.

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So right now, you may be feeling like Hiccup before he meet Toothless, when he questioned how he could even claim to be Viking when he had so many strikes against him. Right now, it’s easy to focus on those negative emotions that bubble up after a rejection.

I want to remind you that while you feel like this, the other aspect of Hiccup is still very much a core part of you.

You know, post-Toothless Hiccup. The writer who crushes 7,000 words in one day because the words wouldn’t stop flowing–or perhaps writes one sentence even though they felt completely crummy and didn’t think they could get anything written that day. The writer who comes up with a new plot idea that sends chills of excitement down to their toes. The writer who gets giddy talking with their writing group, getting (and sending) feedback notes from (to) their CP/betas, who gets a partial request from an agent–or even a personalized rejection.

The writer who doesn’t give up, despite.

Because here’s the thing: yes, not getting chosen as a mentee sucks, because we feel like we’re missing out on the chance to get our writing noticed and learning from such amazing people. We feel that getting into Pitch Wars is a validation that our writing is good enough and now that we haven’t, how is anything we write any good? Or, we feel like we’ve missed our one chance in achieving our dreams. I, for one, am definitely getting a hot fudge sundae after work, eating healthy be damned. Because yeah, I’m bummed.

But here’s the other thing, the more important thing: the only way you’ve lost your chance; the only way that your stories don’t get told; the only way your writing isn’t good enough; the only way the door closes on your dreams, is if you stop. If you let rejection halt your tracks. If you stop believing in your stories.

And why would you do that?

How many dragons would have been killed if Hiccup gave up after Toothless was taken by his father, wrongly accused of hurting Hiccup and being dangerous? How long would the Vikings have lived in ignorance if Hiccup had given into his own despair and didn’t believe in himself–or Toothless?

So do you what you need to, Pitch Wars hopefuls, to help heal from rejection. Because it hurts and it does suck. Eat ice cream. Watch your favorite movie. Hang out with friends that make you laugh. Hug puppies. And then get back to work, whether it’s sending the manuscript you submitted into Pitch Wars to betas for feedback, brainstorming a new idea, plotting out a novel, writing character sheets, beta reading for someone else, reading a book from your genre, reading your mentors books in support of their dreams, or a plethora of other options to get back into the routine of writing.

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Because you are just as much a writer as Hiccup is a Viking.


Now it’s time for you to figure out exactly what that looks like.


Musings over “Ama Te Ipsum”

I had a very different experience writing the latest short story for the Muses, which can be read here, if you’re curious (also, if you do want to read this but don’t want any elements spoiled, perhaps don’t read this post). Usually, after a prompt is chosen, I write the story pretty soon after that and then have a few weeks in-between writing it and when my story is due to edit and wait, since I’m the last person to post in our rotation.

This time, I wrote the story two days before.

I had every intention to write it earlier. I even had an idea right out the gate, as it was the month I got to pick the prompt, and I had–what was in my mind–a really cool idea regarding a sci-fi setting and a main character with cybernetics who, in a society where their soulmate was determined by a time written on their wrist, discovers that her soulmate is herself when she stumbles upon a mirror (which is also forbidden in said society). I thought it could be a really fun piece that hinted at the importance of self love that would also enable me to dabble in the science fiction genre a little bit more, which I wanted to do. I was so excited to write this piece.

But time got away from me. Life got busy. And when I initially looked at the deadline (which was the middle of August and we were starting these stories in early July), I thought I had plenty of time.

And then Friday was no longer on the horizon, but instead, within the same week, only days away, and I hadn’t written a word.

I panicked and one afternoon, I sat down and forced myself to write, because I knew if I didn’t finish it that afternoon, my story wouldn’t get done. And I really didn’t want to do that. It took a couple of times leaving the computer, only to come back to it and force the words out, before I had a draft down. I had enough time the next day to do a few little edits, but overall, that first draft was what I was stuck with.

I wasn’t happy with it.

I was concerned that my worldbuilding wasn’t ingrained well enough and that readers wouldn’t understand the nature of the world I was trying to convey. I was concerned that my readers wouldn’t connect with my main character enough, that she didn’t have a distinct personality. I was concerned whether or not my readers would understand the ending and that I didn’t set it up properly. I was concerned that the message I wanted to convey–that self-love is just as important as romantic love–wasn’t clear enough (so I resorted to cheating with putting the message as the title in a different language).

Basically, I had this idea I was so excited about yet I felt I completely ruined in my execution, thanks to not taking the proper time to write this story and instead being rushed by my deadline.

And then I read this comment.

I’ve sat here for the last ten minutes after finishing this trying to find a way to distill my thoughts in a way that will make sense, and I find it to be a far harder task than I’d have imagined. I admit, I’d guessed at the twist a few paragraphs before reaching it, but I still find it a wonderful way to subvert such a classic trope.

I also very much enjoyed how thoroughly you built out this world in so short a time, using single words or phrases within paragraphs describing otherwise average things. It gives all the advanced technology a feeling of everyday normality that does wonders for making such an otherwise alien world feel just as average and routine as ours. This is amplified by the fact that this technology seems to revolve around a kind of future-gen social networking. Like Facebook taken to a ridiculous, yet still believable, extreme. That is to say, in a world where hyper-advanced cybernetics are commonplace, it seems only natural that the world’s social networking software would have evolved in kind.

Finally, I find the thing that really ties all this together and makes it all really work is your main character’s voice. It walks this fine line between human and robotic, emotional and clinical, and seems to perfectly encapsulate the apparent dual nature of the world and society Cora lives in. I find that it’s this element that takes your story from a cool and exciting concept, brings it up to the next level, and turns it into a story a reader like myself can actually connect with.

Well done and bravo. 🙂 — Zach of Quills and Controllers

I was absolutely floored.

The first reader to comment on this story and every single element I was so worried about, they enjoyed. Which happened to be the same trend from two other readers who reached out to me and gave me feedback on that story felt. Granted, I know three people isn’t a very big pool to reach a conclusion from, yet it was still three more people than I’d thought I’d find who enjoyed the story and understood what I was trying to do.

That was…a really neat feeling.

I may, ever slowly, be figuring out this short story thing, friends. Just maybe.


Two Steps Back, A Million Steps Forward

Oh boy, do I have work ahead of me.

Remember reading this post, where I described my revelation of recognizing when you send a manuscript out too early to be read, because it’s still at the “this-book-is-shit” stage? Yeah, so I read through all of that beta feedback referenced in that post this afternoon and that status still stands.

As it sits right now, as a draft, THE RESISTANCE is, indeed, shit.

When I wrote that post, I felt really disheartened about that fact (and also embarrassed that I sent out such an shoddy example of my work). Knowing that mindset, I purposefully didn’t read through any of the feedback in-depth, because I knew it would either a) tear me apart or b) I’d feel really defensive and want to argue every criticism they made, becoming irrational and doing my betas a disservice.

Reading it today, in a much better mindset, having already accepted that my story is in its earliest stage and what my betas are claiming is most likely the truth, I could actually see the merit of my betas insight without taking it as a personal attack. I also realized another important thing.


I have a two page document filled with notes of things that I need to focus on. Namely plot, character and exposition. My main character was so passive, it drove my readers crazy and made them not care about him or his struggles in the slightest. They had no idea about his motivations or his drives and got tired of him being dragged around and forced to do things by other characters, instead of initiating anything himself. And there was no character arc, no growth, so by the ending, readers were left unsatisfied–not to mention that this was a straight-up tragedy, with no happy ending in sight.

Speaking of the ending, the dissatisfaction with the ending was also tied into my second main flaw: the plot. While I had the basic idea and conflict, the execution and finer details were desperately lacking. And the questions that my beta readers brought up, I couldn’t answer (hint: that’s a warning flag if I’ve ever seen one). Not to mention the specifics of the science and the magic system within it were…not present. A lot of plot holes. A lot.

Finally, there was the writing itself, which reflected my uncertainty of the plot and my unfamiliarity with the main character because it was overrun with exposition, constantly barraging my readers with info dumps and explanations instead of showing them what I wanted them to know and putting them in-scene. Not to mention I had two betas out of four who thought switching from third person to first person might be the better option.

I have so much to fix, so much to understand and so much to heighten that I got overwhelmed and wrote this blog post instead of getting started. However, I think writing this helped me get a better sense of direction.

First, I need to understand the plot. I need to understand the world, the mechanics, the conflict, the rationale, the stakes. I need to understand every angle and figure out what I’m trying to say with this book. Because that ending that everyone hated? I want that to stay. I really want to write a book where the ending that I have fits. But in order to do that, I need to make it still feel complete and rewarding while also heartbreaking.

But once I understand the plot, I can figure out the character that’s stuck within it. Figure out their past, their history, their quirks, their attitudes, their beliefs, their situation and then I’ll understand what they’ll do when I throw them into an apocalypse where 5% of the population is all that remains of the human race.

Once I understand the plot and the character and how they interact, I’ll map out the story. The beats. How we get from start to finish.

And then I’ll write it, which will be an interesting process, because I’ll mostly be starting out with a new draft–especially since I’m considering not only changing the POV, but also the gender of the protagonist–but I’ll also be salvaging scenes from the old one.

Plot. Character. Beats. Words.

A lot of revision ahead and lessons learned from this story, friends. Let’s hope I stay up to the task, hm?


Respect the Stages

I entered into Pitch Wars. Since, I’ve been trying (<— read, failing) not to just stalk all my potential mentors’ feeds and see if they say anything that resembles my book at all; trying (<— read, still failing) not to refresh my email every ten seconds in hopes that a request for a partial or a full might come through; trying (<— read, forever failing) not to get lost in the feed while glancing at my calendar and wondering why it isn’t August 25th yet. Those nervous, contest butterflies fueled by fragile threads and hope and anxiety are in full swing and it’s only been two days.

So, this morning, I thought, Hey. Instead of obsessing over a book you can’t do anything with at the moment, perhaps you should work on polishing up another novel? Hmm? 

When I made a call for beta readers for ARTEMIS last year, I also asked for betas for the only science fiction novel I’ve written, THE RESISTANCE, so that when I was done editing one, I could go straight into editing the other. I hadn’t looked at that feedback yet (because I wanted to look at it when I actually had time to implement it), so I figured that was as good a place to start as any. Look at the feedback, see how people felt about the novel, make an editing game plan, maybe start getting into the actual manuscript next week.

And then I read the feedback.

The consensus was clear.

The book sucked.

That was…hard to swallow, especially right now, when I’m pillaging through the teasers from the contest and that nefarious doubt is in the back of my mind, whispering lies like, You know your book isn’t good enough, why even hope at all? I didn’t read through the feedback in-depth, yet, just glanced through the general summations they gave, but the trend was the same: my main character was annoying and didn’t have enough to work for, the pacing was slow/off, the world-building was confusing, none of the characters had enough depth and the ending was disappointing, if not downright depressing.

Image result for hiccup you just gestured to all of me

Cool premise, though.

Seeing that kind of response, I immediately felt deflated. My stomach twisted in knots, an overwhelming wave of disappointment washing over me. My mind panicked, thinking about the other manuscript I’d just entered into Pitch Wars, one of the most prestigious and well-known Twitter contests you can enter. Had I just made a huge mistake? Is ARTEMIS truly as bad as RESISTANCE? Have I bitten off more than I can chew?

Before I let myself completely give into despair and woeful lies, I had to pause and recognize another emotion in the mix, buried beneath all of those questions and sick feelings of shame.

Non-surprised expectation.

Though I hadn’t glanced at that feedback before today, in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t going to be positive, in the sense that there would be a lot more constructive criticism than there would be praise. It’s not that the feedback itself is negative or that receiving only criticism is a negative thing (quite the opposite, in fact; how can we improve if we only experience praise?). It’s just that I knew RESISTANCE was not going to receive glowing reviews from my beta readers.

I knew without admitting it that book wasn’t ready for the eyes of others yet. That was only the first draft I’d written. Hell, haven’t even read it more than once. I hadn’t edited anything yet, hadn’t done anything to it beside try and get the ideas I had in my head down on paper in some sort of comprehensible fashion. In every sense, what I sent out to my beta readers was the worst possible draft I could have sent them. Yet I was putting out a call for my other book, so in my brain, I was like, Hey, why not get feedback on two books at once? 

That was a mistake.

Because both of those books were at different stages.

With ARTEMIS, I had written a draft and then went back through and edited it once myself. I know that may not seem like a lot, but trust me, that second read through makes a huge difference. I’d already worked out a lot of kinks that typically result from a first draft attempt before I sent it out to betas, whereas with RESISTANCE, all of those problems were still present. I hadn’t given RESISTANCE the time it needed and deserved to make it at least resemble a story, not just being the bare, confusing bones of one like all my first drafts are.

So of course my betas had tons of problems with every aspect of the book.

Similar to how I wasn’t surprised when there were more aspects betas liked about ARTEMIS than they found to critique about it.* And what they did critique was exactly what I needed, locating the places I was blind to, things I hadn’t even considered would need improving because I was at a loss as to how to make the story better, hence looking for an outside opinion.

With RESISTANCE, if I would have paused to really think, I could point out many of the same weaknesses my betas did. I was just so excited about the idea of someone else reading my work and offering feedback that I didn’t stop to consider whether my novel was ready for that kind of attention.

And for that mistake, my RESISTANCE betas, I apologize profusely. It was not my intention to waste your time and your feedback is valued to me. I will read through everything, thoroughly, and incorporate your thoughts into my next round of edits.

I learned a couple different things this morning, I think. The most important lesson was figuring out how to know when my book is ready for beta feedback–not only so I never waste anyone else’s time again, but also so that my book has the chance to benefit the most from another pair of eyes, i.e., if the obvious, glaring issues that I would have caught aren’t there, my betas can actually look for more complex, complicated issues to help elevate the story.

I have been reminding myself (and seeing the reminder in the Pitch Wars feed) that so many writers who entered are in different stages of their career, so I should stop comparing myself to them. Similarly to how, if I don’t become a mentee or, if I did become a mentee and didn’t become agented afterwards, I can’t consider that a failure when I look at those who did win or did become agented; because every journey is different and we’re all at different stages. Yet I was also reminded that I’m at different stages across my own works. 

I know that probably seems obvious. One book that has been undergone twelve drafts is obviously different than a book that’s only been written once. Yet, for a moment, I assumed that because RESISTANCE is still in such a bad shape, that obviously that means ARTEMIS sucks just as much. And that’s simply not the case, because I’ve put so much more work into ARTEMIS. Multiple rounds of revision, including a round implementing beta feedback. Not to mention that I understand that story so much more and feel so much more confident about it. My writing reflects that, whereas my writing in RESISTANCE shows my hesitancy and uncertainty I have for that narrative.

This is a really long post to basically say this: recognize the various stages your writing and your career are in and then respect them. Take the time to work on a novel to get it ready for betas. Rewrite as many drafts as you need to, to make it work. Don’t forget that your first draft usually sucks and that’s okay. It’s also okay if your tenth draft sucks. Every book is different. Every career is different. Focus on yours and doing everything you can to make it the best of your ability. Recognize your mistakes, admit them and then keep pushing forward.

And never give up. Our world needs your stories.


* When I say this, I’m not trying to come off as conceited and say that I assumed my book was so great, all my betas would love it. What I meant was that my gut was telling me ARTEMIS was ready for their eyes, whereas RESISTANCE was not.

A Change in Plans

Last year, I was on an amazing writing streak, writing four books between one November and the next. It was…mental, to be honest.

So when the new year started, my plan–my vision–was to do the exact same thing again. I had a sequel in one series to write, three new series to start, not to mention all the editing I needed to do with everything I’d written so far. The creativity was kicking, the productivity flowing. Books were going to be written, people. So many new books.

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As you may have intuitively guessed (or figured out, if you follow this blog), I haven’t written a single new book this year.

I even tried to write one. Got 50 pages in before I started over, deleting most of it. Then, got to 60 pages before I tabled a book for the first time. The words were just not flowing and even though I haven’t written it yet, I knew that story is too important to half-ass just to finish it. It deserve the best I can offer and I wasn’t giving that.

So I went and started editing ARTEMIS, my favorite book I wrote last year. And I wrote this post about some of the fears and roadblocks I had surrounding writing and how I’d been in a rut for so long. One of the points I made was that I felt like turning to editing when writing something new wasn’t working felt like cheating. Like I wasn’t actually writing, because I was simply revising words I’d already written.

Then, the lovely, inspiring and talented Melissa Caruso (who’s debut, THE TETHERED MAGE, comes out THIS OCTOBER *squee*) commented on that post and said this:

If it helps with the “Editing is not writing” mindset, I think editing is not only writing, it is THE MOST IMPORTANT PART. I did the very first draft of TTM in like 2 months and then spent… uh… a year editing it, on and off? Something like that. And there’s not much left of that first draft. It had to be done to get to the final, but it was the editing where I did most of my best work on it. I would be embarrassed to show you some of the crappy first try scenes! I used to hate revising, but now I see it as what it is—writing—and I kind of love it.

And if it helps you not give up… I can tell you FOR SURE that every book, every page, is getting you more XP to level up. I had to write, um, let’s go with “several” books before Naomi rescued me from the slush pile, and one more for good luck before getting a publisher. It’s worth the wait! The more books you write before The Book, the better The Book will be when you get there. You got this!

And friends, that has stuck with me.

I’m only 20 pages away from finishing this round of edits on ARTEMIS (and let me tell you, those last 20 pages are going to make me earn it). So many times, I have rewritten entire paragraphs, if not entire chapters.

That’s most certainly counts as writing.

Not only that, but I like to believe that a lot of the changes I’ve made have been improvements. There were entire scenes I skimmed over which, now that I’ve fleshed them out, makes the story so much stronger, so much more in-scene. I’ve given my characters more depth, made them more realistic. Even though I haven’t finished it yet, I feel like this third draft of ARTEMIS is so much stronger than what I started out with. And I actually was really proud of that first draft.

It made me wonder: how could I improve my other stories; stories which were the stepping stones that enabled me to have the tools, the courage and the gumption to write ARTEMIS in the first place? How could I use what I’ve learned editing ARTEMIS–not to mention the knowledge I’ve obtained and soaked in from other writers, editors and professionals in the field these past two years, becoming more involved in the writing community–to improve the stories that have sat on the back burner for so long?

My original plan was to try and write four new books this year. Now, I’ve decided to spend the rest of 2017 editing the books I’ve already written. After I finish ARTEMIS, I’m going to enter that manuscript into Pitch Wars. Then, I think I’m going to (*cough*finally*cough*) look at some beta feedback I got over THE RESISTANCE and give that book some desperate attention. Then, if I’m feeling really brave, I’ll return to Darryn and his story, told through the DESTINY OF THE DRAGON trilogy. I know that trilogy has a lot of work and while it’s a troped story that will probably never see the light of day, traditional-publication wise, I still want to make it the best story I can. I just love it too much.

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Of course, plans can change. Maybe I’ll win Pitch Wars and spend the rest of 2017 fervently working on ARTEMIS (wouldn’t that be a dream?). Maybe I’ll finally figure out how to work around the blocks in Natanni’s story and return to have another crack at that. Maybe I’ll flesh out one of the other books I planned to write and get caught up in the excitement of a new story. I have no idea. But for now, I hope to continue to learn and appreciate the process that is editing, so that I can keep leveling up and writing the best stories I can in that given moment.

Because I really want to take up a spot on your bookshelf, one day.


Insights With Editing

I don’t think there is any “correct” way to edit your novel. You just gotta find what works best for you in that given moment or that given manuscript and continue to strive to create the best story you can.

That said, I’ve discovered some interesting differences editing ARTEMIS for the second time than my previous editing go-arounds.

The first comes thanks to the input from other writers, i.e., I sought help from beta readers. Last November, I sent my manuscript out with a questionnaire, looking for any sort of guidance and outside input to help enlighten this blind creator to the flaws and areas of improvement within her creation. I’d sought out opinions from others before, but never was I so organized or specific. Not only did I give a little more guidance as to what I was looking for, feedback wise, instead of the simple, “Do you like it?” generalization, but I also got opinions from five people instead of just one other person. And not from family members, either. Five fellow writers, all in different stages of their careers.

Their feedback has been invaluable.

Not only was I able to create a six page document of ideas and suggestions based off their advice, but I also made a copy of my manuscript, went through it and inserted all of their line edits. Every time I finish editing a chapter, I compare it to the chapter that I marked up based on their feedback. And almost every single time, the typos that I missed when I first sent out this manuscript, I missed again editing it myself, e.g., using lead when I meant led happened almost every time I use the word.

It never fails to blow my mind how often I’ll have these little mistakes and how I continually miss them, which is just one example of how important a second pair of eyes is.

The feedback from my betas, not only with the line edits, but the larger scale issues they pointed out, as well, has proven invaluable, as aforementioned. I don’t think I’ll go through editing a book again without seeking out betas to get a second (or sixth) opinion, but probably after I’ve had a chance to edit the book at least once myself.

The other major difference I’ve noticed doing these revisions is how I really do have to obey my moods in order to do this properly. Considering I’ve been in such a writing rut recently, I’ve been really focused on trying to write/edit every day to get back into the groove of things. Or finish so many chapters a week.

Sometimes, that desire to write consistently has taken away from the quality of the work I produced. Instead of actually editing and looking at the areas I needed to improve on in each scene (some things as minor as typos, others as grand as deleting and reworking entire sections), I was just trying to fly through the pages. I got through a couple of chapters before I realized that I needed to slow down and actually be willing to do the work.

Even if that meant on the days that I wasn’t willing, I didn’t force it for the sake of consistency.

I do think there is a difference between just being lazy and actually recognizing when you’re not in a mood to put in the work writing. But there have been times in the past month where I’m reading through a chapter and I’ve made all these notes of the elements I need to change, yet I haven’t made any of those changes, yet I made a move to cross off editing that chapter on my To-Do list. Or every single word I read, I immediately think is shit. It took me a couple times, reading through chapters without actually editing them, before I finally forced myself to take a step back, go do something else and then return to that chapter when I’m in a better frame of mind.

And every single time, I’ve found my work to be better than what I thought it was when I was in a foul mood. And every single time, I’ve made the changes I knew I needed to be making, but was just too lazy to make the previous time I sat time to work on it.

So, yeah. I’m not writing every day. Sometimes, I only work for 15 minutes. Sometimes, it’s three hours. Sometimes, it takes me a week to get through a chapter. Other times, I can fly through three in one session. But I’ve found that by listening to my own emotions and actually taking the time to think about what I’m actually feeling and the source behind those emotions, actually really helps my writing. I’ve come to be able to recognize when I’m looking for an excuse to waste time on Pinterest–and instead sit my butt down in that chair and force myself to get the work done–or when outside influences are risking the quality of my work. I’ve also become more keen to recognizing when I’m really in the mood to write and giving myself permission to listen to that desire, even if that means I have to send an apologetic email for failing behind on X, Y or Z.

I only have about 35 pages left to edit before I’ve finished another draft of ARTEMIS. It could take me a day or it could take me a month to finish. But I’m choosing to stop caring how long it takes and instead, do everything I can to make sure I’m creating my best work and always putting in 100% when I sit down to write.

Not gonna lie: I’m pretty jazzed about the progress I’ve made and have a lot of hope for this story. And that’s a feeling I most certainly missed.