So, I'm going through my story files in search of something I can revise down to 1,000 words or less to send to one of those flash fiction sites. (Listen, I have a hard time revising my grocery lists, so you can imagine how well this is going today.) While I tend to ramble in posts to my blog, because I usually write here the way I converse, my fiction is much more precise--not perfect, just tighter--and I'm having difficulty trimming words from a piece that I had already trimmed down to the gristle of the story.
Take, for instance, my story "Chickasaw Summer," about a hard-headed, trouble-making kid who stays with her uncle's family and finds a UFO (she thinks) in the woods. I took the first chapter, which sets up the story nicely, thinking I could cut 800 words from it to send off. Those 800 words are essential to setting up the following chapters, and I was left with the dullest piece of garbage I've ever read--and written.
Same thing happened with one of my crow stories, although the chapter titled "The Last Gathering," about a memorial service at a Quaker meetinghouse, has promise as a vignette. I intend to work on it when I'm finished here.
Another story, which took first place in a college writing competition, also set in a Friends meeting house, might work, too, now that I think of it. That was one of the first pieces I wrote several years ago. One of the prompts our writers group gave was for a romance, a genre I'd never tried before. "The Promise of Love" has about 500 words over the limit for flash fiction, but I probably can tighten it up without losing the essence of the story.
Trying to rewrite what I've already edited almost down to bare bones is a lot harder than writing the stories in the first place. It's a good thing I don't have to do it like Orwell did in his sample above, typing, then re-typing and typing still again and again, because I think I'd give it up. Maybe I should write something new.
Of course, if all else fails, I could send them one of my grocery lists.
8 comments:
I read a story in a school reader anthology, about Paul Revere as a young silver apprentice. He had to make a silver piece in a large size to match a smaller one, and it was not coming out right, even though he'd done precise measurements. His master had to show him how to scale up, not by making everything bigger, but by keeping the curve and proportions. I didn't really understand how to do it, but I understood that to resize something, it has to be rethought entirely.
Not that this helps you in any way, but this is what you reminded me of.
Zhoen, that's just like editing to reduce the word count, only in reverse. Revising is all about keeping the "curve and the proportions," whether it is in silver or in words.
Good analogy; thanks.
I thought about what you and Zohen were saying, and what occurred to me was that expectations of life are like that, at least for me. I no longer have the grand expectations of what life will bring and what I can do, but have re-sized it to fit reality.
Thanks for the notion, and good luck.
Mike
Cutting is about the hardest thing. I recently was asked to capture the gist of 125 pages in three to five sentences of no more than 85 characters each, spaces and punctuation included. Took. All. Freaking. Day.
An interesting post and interesting comments. I admire you for keeping at writing fiction. I think it is very hard to do, and I, like Should Fish More, have scaled down my expectations of what I can accomplish in life; thus I now know that I cannot write fiction. My little blog is the best I am likely to create with words.
The problem of resizing that you explore and the Zhoen commented on is also present in painting. If you are painting a landscape of course it has to be smaller than the original if it's from nature, or bigger if it's from a photograph. And there's the problem of what to leave out and what to include. That's true in writing. When I think about writing there's always more stuff in my head than I can ever put down on paper. Part of the exercise is knowing what's really necessary to include.
Your much worked on manuscript is something I understand. You feel that you cannot polish enough. Every time you go away and come back you see something that you don't like. But sometimes also something that surprises you, delights you. Did I write that? you say. And that is the joy of writing. Write on, dear Crow, write on.
Been there, failed to do that. Editing can sometimes seem like infanticide, for which of us is capable of slaughtering our babies? The temptation to hang on to that oh-so-witty line is, of course, narcissistic and in the end we are all guilty of self-love. Tightening up the text is almost enjoyable compared with identifying and rectifying structural problems. Even harder is deciding what has been left out - something Plutarch was good at pointing to in Gorgon Times.
The word processor does help, though. Unlike corrected handwritten stuff where the bad stuff remains under a welter of scribble, the origins of a WP error simply disappear. They don't hang around to harass you. Self-delusion also steps out of the window, leaving you only with the material that has been written. Discouraging of course. But no one ever said writing was easy.
Hello, all:
Your comments are thought provoking, to say the least. Cutting through the clutter and getting to the true heart of the matter, whether it is a manuscript or painting or finding what's real in our lives, is hard work, full of angst (sometimes) and delightful surprises, as Plutarch has suggested.
I like what you've written here, your perspectives on the bigger picture, your ability to expand my thinking because of your thoughts. Cool beans, and thanks again.
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