Where's the Author of this Blog?

That's a very good question. I have an answer or answers of sorts.

She's revising, one chapter after another. Rain, of course. I knew it was coming but I didn't expect it to be this difficult. It's not "killing my darlings". It's more like nuking adverbs, inserting very small words that didn't make it, and tweaking storyline.

The only thing I'm not paying much attention to is grammar. I know it sounds odd and probably egotistical but I do think of myself as fairly decent with grammar. I also plan on sending it to a professional editor just for grammar and punctuation correction. After months and years, in the case of Rain, things can get by you. So having something looked at by a professional makes sense.

My little three point review process may need some broadening of scope or method. Right now it makes sense to me. I've never revised anything before. Yes, you heard me correctly. I've never revised before. Perhaps I could say I've never revised on this level or on this big of a project. It doesn't compare to changing a word in a poem or finding another way to say something in a four hundred word essay. I do that all the time.

I identified the use of adverbs as one of my weaknesses. No, I don't think every adverb should be shot on sight. They are a legitimate part of the English language and don't deserve the treatment they've received. But, still I seemed to be using a lot of them. What do I do? Here's my page by page process.

• Highlight every single adverb.
• Go back and eliminate every highlight falling between quotation marks. To me, this is dialogue. The way my characters speak. I want to look at my words, not theirs.
• Go back again and look at each one. Did I describe the action, feeling, or tone elsewhere? Could I have described the action, feeling, or tone in some other way?
• If the answer to my first question above is yes, I delete it.
• If the answer to my first question is no I go on to the second question and either add or rewrite the action or dialogue.
• If the adverb fits --- horror upon horror! --- I leave it alone.  It works for me.

The second weakness I work on is my apparent inability to see where I've dropped very small words. All those little articles and such I thought I typed but didn't. This is a fun process. No, I'm not being ironic or sarcastic here. It is fun.

I don't participate in any face to face writing critique groups. The idea, right now, fills me with an utter state of inexplicable fear. Online is my chosen method for that. But that's another posting. But I often hear  is "Read your work aloud". Reading it aloud to myself? I'm afraid that didn't work for me but something else did.

Someone on the Facebook group, Novel Matters, posted the discovery of a small option in Adobe Reader. Under the 'view' tab was a little option called "Read Aloud". The voice is computer-generated and doesn't always pronounce words or names correctly but, by cracky, I could hear where I missed those "little" words, awkward phrasing, and repetitive words. Yes!! Down to the second process:

•  Convert Word Document to PDF file.
• Open saved PDF file in Adobe Reader
• "Read Aloud" page by page
• Go back to open Word document and make needed corrections
• When last page is done--delete PDF file.

Sounds a little simple but it works for me! Sometimes after (and sometimes before, to be honest) I will listen to the entire chapter to hear how it all hangs together.

Tweaking I cannot explain in a concrete step by step method. It seems to flow through the first two processes. I'm reading/listening as I go through the first two processes. I go either "what?" or "wait a second!" and change/tweak things right then and there. Perhaps as I revise more the pattern will come to me.

I do know I don't want to be caught in a never-ending revision loop--- like this guy here.

 

 

 

Sooner or later I think you have to stop revising, declare the story finished, and get it out there. Really, does any writer ever think: "This is perfect! Nothing more to do here."? There's a quote somewhere that states that.

 

 

 

Regrets

A little note: Once again, I've pulled out an essay I wrote in the 90's. Why this one? I'm not really sure. I had a wonderful weekend in Vermont, met and made friends I want to keep, and fell totally in love with New England so this one is kind of an odd choice---I'm actually quite happy about my trip. My only regret about it is that I couldn't stay long enough.

Regrets

“Regrets I’ve had a few

But then again too few to mention.”

 

The Chairman of the Board had it right. . .at least at first. Everyone has regrets. . .soft regrets. . .hard regrets. . .heartbreaking regrets. . .and half remembered regrets. Yet to go around proudly declaring that we have none seems to be in vogue. Apparently it is considered psychologically unhealthy to have regrets. It’s incomprehensible. Regrets are so human.

OK, so is guilt but that’s not regret. Guilt is always over something a person perceives to have done wrong. Regret is a feeling of sorrow over not having done something or having done something incorrectly. They’re not quite the same thing.

After a certain length of time on this planet, one soon comes to the realization that there are some things they will never do or have. The vast majority of those things we can simply shrug off. There are some we cannot.

Do I have regrets? Oh, yes. I have two major regrets actually, although it’s difficult to call them regrets. And they will probably sound silly to anyone but myself. . .but, hey, they’re my regrets, not someone else’s. I cannot decide now in my life that I will do something about them; I cannot do anything about them. It is simply too late.

I regret that I have never been first in any man’s life. Sounds silly, yes? I have never been anyone’s first choice. . .never. Every man in my life has been someone else’s. . .someone he chose first. I will never know what it is like to step into a man’s life without it being occupied by others: an ex-wife, children. Physically, mentally, or emotionally, they’re there. I’ve never experienced a man in my life without them. At my age, I probably never will. I would have liked to have known what that was like.

I regret that I only have one child. Yes, I love my child dearly but I always wanted more than one. In all actuality, I wanted a bunch of them. I wasn’t infertile; I could have had more. Yet I had this strange principle. . .I would not make any man a father who did not want to be one. So one is all I have when my heart always yearned for more. Now time and biology are against me; I can have no more children.

Just a couple of regrets. . .probably too few to mention but nothing I can do about them; they remain regrets. I never do believe people when they tell me they have no regrets. Not really.

 

Other Dreamers--Life Changes

Some weeks ago on Facebook there was a video posting from someone I follow. I can't say I'm actually a "friend" or acquaintance; we’ve actually never met (and I seriously doubt my name is even known) but I enjoy his postings. Heck, they make me laugh out loud and/or spurt coffee through my nose if I'm not careful. I look forward to them, knowing I'm going to smile or laugh and getting to know him just a little bit better. I like the last part, too. I'm always curious about people.

We have something in common. Both of us have had reasonably successful careers then decided to go back to something we loved but did not complete or follow up on. What makes it ironic, to me anyway, is that what we are changing to. I’m going from a health care profession to a more expressive one---fiction writing ; he is going from an expressive one in the performing arts to--- a health care profession. One of the most demanding ones, too. It is a 180 degree turn for the both of us, from the highly competitive to the highly sought after for him and vice versa for me. I cannot help but wonder at the stories we could tell each other as we pass each other on that road. I know the ones I would tell him if I could.

Some folks might describe such career or life changes as a mid-life crisis but I really  hate the term ‘crisis’.  The term is such a negative one, associated with fear, unexpected change, and other negatives. Pshaw! Yes, it’s scary; I suspect it is for both of us but I don’t think the change came slamming down on us like a full blown code at the change of  shift (a simile from my old profession).  No,  I think completely otherwise.

For myself it wasn’t a sudden, wake-up-in-the-morning kind of thing. I wrote in junior high and high school, even if my teachers didn’t see the half of it. Through first love and marriage to this day I have kept a poetry journal. Little stories made their way into my letters and I was always scribbling first paragraphs.  There are hundreds of nurses who declare they hate to write narrative notes--- I was never one of them. I hated the fact I had to fight for the time to write them. And, yes, I got excited when one of my doctors actually referred to (or complimented me on) one of my notes. You noticed? You read it? Thank you! Would you like my first born or will cookies do?

After my husband died in the early 90’s I started another first paragraph which was followed by another paragraph then another. The next thing I realized  I was writing a story. I also realized it was one of the most satisfying things I had ever done. Oh, I can tell stories about similar satisfaction about specific patients I worked with but it was very different. Several chapters later I had to return to work and the book was shelved under the pressure of everyday life. But it was not forgotten. The rest of that particular story is in the very first entry of this blog.

My Internet ‘acquaintance’? I don’t know if the decision was slow in forming or not but knowing him to be both intelligent and thoughtful I am fairly certain it was not a sudden one. It’s a question I would dearly love to ask. But a mid-life crisis? Bah! I don't think so.
 

Perhaps some day I will have an opportunity to ask that question. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to exchange stories. I would like that. Life is full of possibilities, is it not?