word-crafting: a writer's blog: Editing

Showing posts with label Editing. Show all posts

Sunday, March 16, 2014

A Fond Farewell

Since late October 2013, I’ve posted only once on this blog and that’s because my hopes—plans for it—have gone awry.

When I began this writing blog back in September 2012, I had high hopes of sharing with you my adventures with publishing. I’d seek an agent for the novel I was writing and explore that search with you.

The agent would find a publisher/editor and I’d let you know about today’s contracts and negotiations.

The manuscript would go through the publishing process and I’d have a title and cover that you and I could ooh and ah over. Then would come publication and together we’d climb aboard our luge and zoom down the slope of sells and reviews, of readings and signings, of working with social media and the publisher’s marketing department.

Only one part of that has happened—the agent search last September, October, and November. I’ve e-queried many agents but found no one interested in a historical novel about Palestine in the first-century of the CE.

Wanting to be published again, I thought perhaps that a memoir might have a better chance of interesting agents and editors. And so I set out in January to collate all my convent stories from my on-line memoir blog Coming Home to Myself. I realized I had many more stories to tell about those nine years, and I hoped to do so this year.

Because life happens, I haven’t done any collating or writing since the new year began. Moreover, I find myself loath to begin. The project just seems boring to me. And my best writing has always come from the wellspring of my own passion and curiosity.

What I’m both passionate and curious about right now—and what has held my interest since sixth grade when we studied ancient history at St. Mary’s Grade School—is Bronze Age Greece. Last summer I worked on a first draft for a novel that takes place there in around 1250 BCE. It may be the first book in a trilogy or I may just continue writing and tell the whole story in a longer book.

I know, deep down, that the writing itself is the bread, the sustenance. And that getting published is the slathering on of creamy butter. The first is more important than the second. And yet, I do so love butter!

However, getting publishing—if that ever happens again—is in the distant future. So that leaves little to write about here. And that was what I wanted to share with you.

Thus, I’ve decided to cease writing on this blog. Anything I have to say about my writing life will go on the other blog, which is, of course, the story of my life. Writing has been a big part of that story. So there is some serendipity here.

One of the new adventures in my life is memorizing poetry again as I did when I was in my teens. The poem I’m memorizing right now is “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson. It ends with these lines:

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts.

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

Those words speak to me and convey what motivates me to continue writing. I have stories to tell—on my memoir blog and in manuscripts. I trust that the blog postings will be read. And I trust also that if my writing is for the good of the Universe, it will be published. But I have no control over that. I have control only over what I do and how I respond to the vicissitudes of life.

What I will do is write when I have the time and health and inclination. I will strive, seek, find. There is no yielding when one’s desire to do something leads them to great happiness in the very doing. As to the uncertainty of life—I’m in for the long haul!

Thank you for following this blog through the past year and a half. Let’s hold each other’s heartwishes in our visualizations, prayers, and thoughts. May all we do be for the good of the Universe. Peace.

Photographs from Wikipedia.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Judy's Reading of "The Reluctant Spy"

In my May 5 posting, I shared with you the first response of a friend—July Healey—to the manuscript for The Reluctant Spy. Judy is an established writer of two historical novels published by HarperCollins to excellent reviews. In April, she offered to read my manuscript when I told her the beginning of the novel was giving me trouble. Last Saturday, she sent me the following e-mail:

I think The Reluctant Spy is a terrific story and you have told it well. Everything I have to say is embroidery. You have well developed characters and a strong plot line. . . . You have done a wonderful job here. Best, Judy

But a fine editor—like the one I had back in December whose sound advice enabled me to delete 9,000 words and tighten the story line—does more than simply give an overview of her first response to the manuscript. Truly gifted writers and editors find what doesn’t work and suggest solutions. And Judy knows what to look for. On Wednesday, I received the following in-depth comments from her about the first 86 single-spaced pages:

Plot and character:

Several strains feed the animosity of Daniel and Ephraim and, to a lesser extent, Ephraim and Yeshua—or rather Ephraim for Yeshua. The first case seems based on Daniel’s childhood envy of his father’s pride in Ephraim and the betrayal of Ephraim by studying the Pharisaic tradition rather than Sadducean and his concealment of this. For me, the character of each of these men and their relationship forms the core of the story.

However, it’s taken me some time to piece this together. What would have helped me earlier is the following:

· Clear understanding from the outset of the difference between the two traditions.

· Understanding the relationship of Daniel’s father to Ephraim: How had he come to live with the family? Why was Daniel’s father paying for Ephraim’s education? How could he not know where Ephraim was studying if he was paying the fees?

· Clear understanding early on (rather than much later) of how Daniel and Ephraim parted.

· What, exactly, is Ephraim’s relationship to Daniel now? In some scenes he seems excessively obsequious, although once in a while he musters the character to challenge Daniel. Ephraim is awfully tough on God but can’t stand up to Daniel. I think, especially early on, there should be more resistance on the part of Ephraim.

· Daniel is the most interesting character in the book to me, so far, although the portrait of Yeshua is fascinating. Yet Daniel seems relentlessly vicious. Why?

· I expected more of a reaction when Daniel tells Ephraim that it was his testimony that led directly to John’s death. I think you should do a little more with that scene.

Herod's Temple at the time of Yeshua.

Bridging your knowledge of the times with the readers’ ignorance:

You are steeped in the times and the words of the times but your reader is not. Every historical fiction writer faces this challenge and we each address it in our own way. One way is to have a glossary of terms so the reader can flip back when she comes upon an unfamiliar term
Another is to add more description when you use an unfamiliar term. “Jasper ring” for instance. We don’t care that you know the right word. We want to see it. Describe it for me now and I’ll continue on in the story. But without the description, I’m only faced with the fact that you have esoteric knowledge that I don’t have and I am annoyed and halted in my reading. “Tamarisks.” What are they? What do they look like?
Most of these words can be embroidered with little effort. Honor your reader’s ignorance rather than displaying your knowledge of the time.
But the larger problem is that of helping the reader early on understand the difference between Pharisees and Sadducees and, by understanding, enter into the tribal world these characters inhabit. This is core to the story.
It’s really good Dee. I know it will be published. But that strategy is another story!

Judy has now sent me her comments written on the margins of the first 86 pages. When she completes her reading, I’ll get busy determining which of her suggestions work for me. But already I can see that I need to work on delineating relationships and making Ephraim more believable. I’ll share more with you as I receive Judy’s comments. Peace.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Synopsis of One Writer's Life

Warning: This is a long posting. You may want to bypass it until you have a cup of tea and a scone in hand for leisurely reading!!!

After leaving the convent on Christmas Eve 1966 at age 30, I collapsed in my parents’ home and simply stared into space. The next year, because of a friend’s graciousness, I was offered work as an editor at a Dayton, Ohio, publishing house that produced Catholic weekly readers called “messengers.” I worked as the religion editor for My Little Messenger, a publication for first and second graders.

For the next seventeen years I taught briefly in Dayton and in Claremont, New Hampshire, and studied for a master’s degree. The rest of the time I worked as an editor and writer, first for Pflaum in Dayton and then for Winston Press in Minneapolis.

Beginning in 1973, I worked myself up from editor, to co-director of the Winston trade department, to director of its curriculum department. By 1984, I was working fourteen hour days: eight at the office and six each evening at home. Exhaustion finally took its toll, and in mid-July of 1984, I resigned from my position to become a freelance line editor, copy editor, and curriculum developer.

I freelanced until my retirement in 2001. During those seventeen years, I completed projects for a number of Catholic publishers as well as small presses throughout the United States. I also began teaching professional editing in evening and Saturday classes at the University of Minnesota, the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul, and Metropolitan University.

During those seventeen freelance years, I set an hour aside each morning for my own creative writing. I’d begun writing, as all of us probably do, in grade school. The Sisters of Mercy taught me the basics and I became enamored of words and their power to paint pictures.

In college, my mentor became Sister Scholastica—a Benedictine. She encouraged me to let my imagination soar, and I wrote short stories, fantasies, essays, and poetry before entering the convent in June 1958. However, for the next eight and a half years, the convent offered no time for writing and I lost any interest I had in expressing myself with words.

That continued until I became a freelancer in 1984—so for twenty-six years I did no writing of my own stories. Then, when I became a freelancer, I suddenly got the idea for a romance. As I’ve posted before, I wrote two romances and they were “duds.” But when Dulcy, the cat with whom I’d lived for seventeen and a half years, died in 1989, she gave me the story of our life together and I began to write again.

Dulcy and me.

For the past twenty-nine years, I began one thing after another, but that demon of perfectionism has kept me from completing much of anything—the words just never seemed to be anything more than mundane.

And yet, as I sit here today I realize that I have finished a few things and I’m eager to work on others. Here’s what I’ve complete in final draft—edited and polished. The first three listings have been published.

· A Cat’s Life (Dulcy’s memoir)

· A Cat’s Legacy (Dulcy’s gift of twelve habits of highly successful cats)

· Twenty children’s books for Capstone Press under the name Dee Ready and the pseudonym Anna O’Mara.

· The Gift of Bastet Net (Book 1 of the Great God of Cats fantasy series)

· The Reluctant Spy (a novel that takes place in first-century Palestine)

· A Multitude of Angels (the text for a series of photographs by Judy King who did the art for Dulcy’s memoir and who is doing the art for The Gift of Bastet Net)

One of the sketches for The Gift of Bastet Net.

And here is the additional writing I’ve done, but not completed, during the past twenty-four years:

· A first draft for the novel Winter Tapestry, about four ex-nuns.

· A first draft of Three Roads Diverged. This is Book 1 of a trilogy I plan that takes place in Bronze-Age Greece.

· Half of Book 2 of the Great God of Cats fantasy series—Warriors of Bastet-Net.

· Half of Book 3 of the Great God of Cats fantasy series—Prayers to Bastet-Net.

· Drafts for two picture books for children.

· Several chapters for a memoir by the four cats with whom I lived after Dulcy died.

· Two romances.

· More than 200 postings that will become part of a single memoir or of a trilogy of memoires: early life, convent, post convent.

So, on this day, when I woke up and felt a little down. A little blue. A little annoyed with myself for being so lazy and for getting so little done. On this day . . . I’m realizing that I have been true to the longing I have to write. Thank you for all the encouragement you’ve given me through the past months. No one could ask for better and more helpful support. Peace.

PS: Mount Saint Scholastica, the convent I joined, is celebrating its sesquicentennial this year. The nuns there have invited all of us who left the convent to come back for a celebration this coming weekend. I’m eager to go and to meet friends I haven’t seen in 47 years. Given this, I won’t be posting here next Sunday.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Spelling and a Christmas Book Fair

This posting today has two parts. Please visit both of them!

Part I—Spelling

As an editor who’s spoken to high school students, I’ve heard several say, “I couldn’t edit because I can’t recognize a misspelled word” or “I can’t write because I’m a lousy speller.”

I’m the editor/writer who disproves those theories. Because of an auditory learning disability, I am an extremely poor speller, and yet I both edit and write.

About thirty years ago, I met a professional who tested children experiencing problems with reading. After determining that I had an auditory learning disability, she expressed amazement at my memory. Here’s what she found mindboggling:

From kindergarten through third grade, I missed three months out of the nine of each school year. So I never learned to sound out words. I knew the names of the alphabet letters, but I didn't know that each letter had its own sound. Nor did I ever learn that words had syllables and each syllable had a vowel within it.

In grade school we had spelling books. Each week we learned how to spell twenty new words. Each night—Monday through Thursday—I would memorize five of those words. Mom would point to one, let’s say winter, and say aloud the word those letters represented.

I didn't know that the letter beginning the word represented the sound of w. For me, the word winter could be spelled egtyrhgwt. It wasn’t a series of melded sounds; it was an arrangement of randomly chosen letters someone in the far distant past had put together.

I didn't recognize the sound of individual letters or syllables. Mom had said, “winter” and pointed to the letters. So for me the configuration of the letters w-i-n-t-e-r was said as “winter.” It never occurred to me that in that word are two syllables win- and –ter. Or that win is the sound of a w and an i and an n melded together.

I memorized the configuration of the letters w-i-n-t-e-r and whenever I saw this entity in a sentence or on a Wheaties box or in a headline I knew that I was seeing the letters that represented the word winter.

Throughout grade school, I memorized all the words this way. They were not a combination of melded sounds of the letters of the alphabet. They were simply an arrangement of letters that someone—I didn’t know who—had decided would be said a certain way.

All was well as long as the spelling test each Friday was based on the twenty words in the speller. My memory was good and I could remember the shape of the connected letters when Sister Mary Anne or Sister Corita or Sister Mary McCauley said it. If the pronounced word was winter then my mind saw an arrangement of letters from the alphabet:

1. a small letter toward the end of the alphabet—w

2. another small letter—i—that was the only one with a dot over it

3. a letter from the middle of the alphabet—n

4. a tall letter—t—toward the end of the alphabet

5. another small letter that in the alphabet was to the right of the first letter of my name

6. a final letter that was the first letter of my last name

My mind quickly came up with the shape, arrangement, configuration, structure of the word winter—it was like a landscape covered with snow except for a tall tree in the middle. That, of course, was the letter t.

All this worked well for me for eight years. Then came high school and everything fell apart. I’ll share that with you next Sunday. Between now and then, I’m wondering if any of you had trouble, or have trouble, with spelling.

All photos by Dan from freedigitalphotos.com

Part 2—The Wayman Press Christmas Book Fair

In the spring of this year, Wayman Press offered to publish A Cat’s Legacy, formerly entitled Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans. I will be forever grateful that Dulcy’s companion book to A Cat’s Life now has its own life.

And so today I feel privileged to be part of the Wayman Press Three-Day Christmas Book Fair, which offers over eighty e-books, several of them free.

Two of my books are on that list of eighty. Also, I wrote a short story—a cat fantasy—for Open Doors: An Anthology, which is being offered as a free choice. The story is entitled “The Mesmerizing Monk.” It is from a feline fantasy which I am writing.

Below is the information provided by Wayman for this book fair.

A socially conscious press, Wayman is dedicated to helping those in need. Much of the profit from the following anthology will be donated to Primary Children's Hospital in the form of Christmas gifts we'll bring to the long-term patients staying there.