Tag Archives: Writing and Editing

Trains, Planes, and Writer Deadlines

27 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by in Publishing, Travel, Writing Practices

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This weekend, I once again found myself writing on a train. My first blog entry on train travel described the cathartic process of writing in response to travel. This entry discussed the space one can create by getting out of town and clearing one’s mind. This weekend, however, the process was an altogether different one, as I was writing under deadline in preparation for the latest issue of AMRI.

Part of me believes that the traveling process will always spark new ideas. Yet, under deadline, one often fails to have this same transformative experience. As I write this blog entry, I am now looking out the train window for first time on my trip. I see the leaves have begun to change. The sun is shining onto my computer screen, yet I am squinting, managing to write still.

I suppose I am discussing the process of production here—and how it might interfere with the need for reflection. Sometimes one requires travel in order to write well, and sometimes one just needs to write. On this trip, I found myself slightly stressed, attempting to finish my work in time for my visit to Amherst, Massachusetts. More than that, I worried my work would not be perfect. Each time I write a review, article, or blog entry, I read it out loud afterwards. Then, I save and close my document, set it aside, and review it a few days later. If it’s a novel or longer piece, I might even set the work aside for a few weeks or a month. This was clearly not an option this weekend. I found myself having to turn in work that had not been given the proper resting time.

In a way this dilemma gets to the very question of writing for art versus writing for commercial value. I used to believe that writing every day would ruin my process. I believed that I needed time to reflect on what I was writing. While I still believe this to be true (the mind certainly needs a break at times), I also believe a writer needs to be capable of producing under strict deadline. If a writer cannot do this, she cannot fully consider herself a professional.

As I am pulling into another station on the Northeast Regional line from Amherst to New York, I wonder how my experience would have been different this weekend had I not been writing under deadline. Would I have enjoyed the ride more? Would I have been in less of a rush to produce a thoughtful review? Perhaps . . . but on the other hand, I can reassure myself with one simple thought: Sometimes a writer just needs to get it done.

There are moments to enjoy the view and moments to "get it done."

There are moments to enjoy the view. Other times, one just needs to write.

 

How I Wrote This Story: “Backyard Dogs”

25 Sunday May 2014

Posted by in Fiction Writing, MFA Writing, Publishing, Writing Practices

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One of my short stories, “Backyard Dogs,” was published in Atticus Review this February. Below I discuss the process of writing, rewriting, and finally publishing this story.

I first wrote “Backyard Dogs” the year before I started my MFA writing program at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Originally, the story was about a pack of rabid dogs that mysteriously appeared in a brother and sister’s backyard. I liked the story and, as a result, took it to workshop in my very first semester of graduate school. After one slightly eccentric classmate read her letter of praise out loud, the rest of the class proceeded to tear the story apart. It was sentimental, they said. The writing was imprecise. It was not, in short, up to par.

Feeling discouraged, I scrapped the story and decided to develop a new writing process. From that point on, I began experimenting with a style that was tight and carefully constructed. Coming from a journalism background, I had always written in a short, concise manner, but after writing fiction for the past few years, my prose had become sloppy. I worked on honing the skills I already had in order to create a more solid draft.

A few workshops later, I turned in the second version of “Backyard Dogs.” I had rewritten the entire piece. I am not sure the initial draft was a failing one, but that first workshop encouraged me to write something new. The second draft was about a young girl who was allergic to almost everything. Somehow, despite (or perhaps because of) her misfortune, the character is ultimately able to connect with a homeless man who sleeps in her backyard.

Although this draft was not at all like the first, perhaps a few elements remained. I had eliminated the dogs entirely, yet I kept the title from the first draft. Perhaps the tone, too—the sense of isolation and poverty—also transferred over to the second story. This draft, like the first, had a clear sense of space. When I imagined the girl’s backyard, I had a strong picture in my mind of what it looked like.

Like many of the characters I have created, the girl in “Backyard Dogs” is a fusion of people I have met over the years. For example, I once taught a girl who was allergic to nearly everything, including the sun. She couldn’t take pottery classes. She had to work in a particular room in the building and often ate lunch alone. One day, I watched this girl during a fire drill. She was standing in the shadow, her head and entire body wrapped in a special, hypoallergenic cloth. The girl in “Backyard Dogs” has a different personality, yet I was able to use this real-life student as inspiration for this character.

After a few more drafts, “Backyard Dogs” was beginning to take its final form. I ultimately included it in my MFA thesis. It was perhaps the most experimental of the stories I had written during my three-year program. It was also one of the most pressing ones.

This year, it was finally accepted and published in Atticus Review’s “Trespassing Issue.” It took several years and many drafts, but I am now very proud of this work and feel fortunate to have seen it develop over time. I share this story in order to demonstrate the long, often indirect route to publication. Sometimes it takes several years for a story to mature, and that is okay. The first draft of “Backyard Dogs” was not at all like the final one, but without this first draft, I would not have arrived at the short story available today.

You can read “Backyard Dogs” via the link below:

http://atticusreview.org/backyard-dogs/

Editing Zen and the Mark of a Good Copy Editor

11 Tuesday Jun 2013

Posted by in Copyediting

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This weekend I have taken on another copyediting assignment. When I told my fiancé, he simply shook his head and rolled his eyes at me. He knew by the end of the weekend, I would be staring at my computer screen, my eyes red from overuse, my wrists sore from carpal tunnel, and I would ask him:

“Why? Why did you let me take on another copyediting assignment?”

In fact, by the end of almost every assignment, I plead with my fiancé and other loved ones, using almost the same lament each time. I tell them I hate copyediting, and please—no matter what I say—don’t let me do it again. Then, a few months later, an editor contacts me, and I gladly take on the assignment before even asking the above-mentioned loved ones.

“Sure,” I say, with much enthusiasm. “I’ll have it to you by Monday.”

The truth is these assignments often offer a much-needed break from the stress of writing. For one weekend, I don’t need to pay attention to sentence flow, character development, or dialogue. I only need to focus on commas, hyphens, widows, and abbreviations. At the same time, assignments such as these strengthen my writing, allowing me to refresh my skills. I come away feeling like a good writer, one who knows where to place a comma (most of the time) and can determine when a number should be spelled out or written in numeral form.

When I was in high school, I worked on the school newspaper for three years. When our teacher, who treated us like a professional staff, first asked why I wanted to write for a newspaper, I told him I was interested in creative writing, and I thought journalism would improve my editing skills. He told me this was not a fiction writing class, but I insisted writing articles would help me achieve my overall goals, and I was right. After three years, I could take any 800-word article and cut it down to 500. I could delete entire paragraphs, rearrange sentences, and rewrite leads. I learned how to be ruthless, and to this day, I am still able to cut our entire pages or sections of my work, admitting when the writing does not add to the greater good of the piece.

In some ways, I feel similarly about copyediting and proofreading. While the entire process can be tedious, I come away feeling refreshed. I am also able to focus on the technical side of my brain, which allows for a sort of mental vacation.

I must admit that I have always been technically inclined. I loved math in school, and I have always felt fond of computers. To me, these skills came naturally. Unlike my literary peers, I often did better on math tests than English essays or exams. But, I chose writing because it was a challenge and was ultimately meaningful to me. A sentence can be written in so many ways, and while there are many routes to solving a math equation, writing often surprises, turning down another, unexpected path before reaching its conclusion.

While I have chosen writing (and only sometimes lament my decision), I think writers do benefit from using the more technical side of their brains. Copyediting is not a strict science, and I often find myself looking at a comma and wondering if it truly belongs in a sentence. I might call up friends, look at books, discuss with my poor fiancé, and then I realize I have spent thirty minutes contemplating a comma (which is why I am not an efficient copy editor).

I worry that I will somehow make a mistake and place an unwanted comma where it does not belong, but then—after hours and hours of staring at the page—I realize that I truly love to write, and very few others would take more than a second to contemplate one comma in a sentence. Copyediting, too, reminds me that I have come a long way since I began writing. In fifth grade, I learned “a lot” was two words, and I never forgot this. The grammar rules and editing skills I have learned since then are astonishing, and as I finish the last page of my copyediting assignment, I feel a sense of achievement. If I hadn’t taken a step back to copyedit, I might not have reached this editing Zen. I realize, then, I have spent hours considering the minutia, and this has led me to once again see the big picture.

Sadly, I no longer use these traditional proofreading marks. I edit electronically.

Sadly, I no longer use these traditional proofreading marks but instead edit electronically.