My weakness as a writer is wordiness. I’m painfully aware of it, and it still plagues me after years of working to improve my fiction. This is a serious problem. No one in the business will consider a manuscript over a certain length, let alone publish it, from a first-time writer. My self-published efforts don’t count. I’m a new writer to them. Printing costs money, and the greater the page count, the greater that cost — aside from causing more deaths of innocent trees. A thick book is intimidating to readers. The authors of Gone With the Wind, Moby Dick, or The Grapes of Wrath might’ve gotten away with it, but not a modern-day unknown.
Experts say that, over time and with practice, one unconsciously learns to write to length. It didn’t happen to me. I’m either word-count learning disabled, or I haven’t done enough of the right kind of writing. I never wrote for a newspaper or for magazines. My technical writing was nuts and bolts, cut-and-dried stuff, with no opportunity to be wordy. I learned a lot about deadlines, organization, and proofreading doing that, but not about writing a creative project to length. Cutting to length after the fact is time consuming.
One solution I plan to employ in the future is to write more poetry. I love it, and I can’t think of a better training process to conquer my wordiness. Poetry requires sparseness, the selection of the best word to express a thought. I plan to write more short fiction and essays, too.
In the meantime, on this project, I outlined between drafts, to help ensure the story was staying on track. I’m also employing a method that my quasi-personal-editor (husband) came up with while we got Shadows Fall ready to self publish. We call it Pages to Paragraphs. It doesn’t prevent bulk, but it helps reduce my writing to something manageable after the fact.
The original Pages to Paragraphs took its name from reducing chunks of prose that were pages in length to a paragraph or two, in other words summarizing parts of the story. There’s a difference between telling and showing in fiction, and showing takes a lot more words. I decided what needed to be shown and what told, then used Pages to Paragraphs to shorten the telling parts further. I’m not entirely happy with Shadows Fall, even now, and it could still be shorter. But it was an important step in my learning process, and Pages to Paragraphs played a role in completing that step.
My writing has changed, matured. Pages to Paragraphs has evolved as well, flexing to fit the piece of writing or what needs to be cut. I’m using it to shorten my current novel. The problem right now is inflated sentences running amok with repetition, passive usage, and convolutions that make me wonder where my brain was at the time I wrote them, or if I’ve somehow forgotten how to write.
The Process:
1. Determine the percent to cut by comparing current word count to the required length.
2. Analyze the work to determine where to cut. From the narrative, the descriptions, or dialog that’s too cute to live? Is the excess padding mostly in the beginning, middle, or end? Are some chapters more obese than others? In my current book, it’s all over the place, in the sentences, which at least makes the math easy.
3. Break the manuscript into non-overwhelming portions (I divide it neatly into chapters), and crunch each one down the required percentage.
4. Read each trimmed section through to ensure I haven’t butchered anything beyond comprehension. Smooth as necessary, without adding words.
Seems obvious, doesn’t it? There’s more.
The Rules:
1. Never allow myself to say this is impossible, that I can’t cut any more.
2. Remember this isn’t the time for creative writing, only creative cutting. Turn off the pink battery bunny — remove its batteries and hide them. Bring out a GI Joe with an assault weapon intended only to kill words. Picture the tough action figure from Toy Soldiers, or Legolas taking out Orcs and Oliphants in LOTR. Some might prefer Edward Scissorhands cutting topiaries.
3. Remember this is a sculpting process, the equivalent of chipping away wood, rock, ice, or whatever medium a sculptor works with, to reveal the image inside. I need to be brutal and thorough, but exercise judgement and finesse.
4. Avoid deluding myself. Inevitably, when I start work on a chapter or scene, I read a little and think, “Oh, this one doesn’t need any work, it’s fine as it is.” But if I tell myself, “Cut or else, and cut the full amount!” and I begin to examine each sentence on its own, I soon find myself chipping away. I see redundancies I didn’t before. I find tangential thoughts that are meaningless to the story, little descriptive lists of adjectives. I notice sentences strung together in a kind of drunken meandering rather than in straightforward ways. I find passive verbs, passive phrases.
5. Pat myself on the back, after cutting each section of my darling to pieces. Give myself a cheer as I notice the word count gradually melting, and take a break for a few minutes. Then charge into the next piece and keep cutting.
One note of caution: I’ve used this method in the past and found that there were one or two tidbits I wished later I hadn’t cut. Even months later, I reread and still missed them. It’s safer, and I can be more disciplined in this process, if I back up each draft as I go. I even save “Trash” files containing the larger chunks I’ve cut. That way I’ll send off a lean, clean draft to agents and keep my soggy, romantic, full-bodied drafts in a drawer to cry over later if I want. Nobody else may love them, but I still can. (I really am that sappy — pitiful, isn’t it?)
The strength of this method applies to any overwhelming task I’ve taken on, from piles of film after a holiday, when I worked in a photo-processing plant, to book-length revisions or new projects from scratch as a technical writer. It has to do with breaking a big task into manageable portions, and engaging self-discipline and common sense — with the addition of silencing the sentimental voice that wants me to think creative work should only be fun and easy, and God-forbid, never destructive.
In other words, it’s all in my head. But if that’s what it takes, giving myself a different view of the problem and breaking it into smaller pieces, then . . . whatever works, right?
This is my final major edit of this book, its sixth draft. After that it will get a proofreading pass. Then it’s off to seek an agent.
1.
I’m curious as to whether anyone besides yourself or your husband reads your draft(s) as a fresh pair of eyes.
Comment by Alphabeter — January 17, 2007 @ 1:41 am
2.
Sounds like a good method, however my problem is the opposite. I tend to write too short. I convey exactly what I think needs to be conveyed, then stop. But with fiction this isn’t always good. You sometimes need to give the reader a little time to soak up the scenery, to vary the pace. I often telegraph things too much.
Mary and I invariably end up somewhere close to 75,000 for our books. We’ve learned that when we outline around 60 scenes will end up as the 75,000 words we feel we need to get up to. For some reason our second book was 100,000 words. Far longer han the others. Why, I can’t say.
But then I have written for newspapers and magazines where short word counts rule. Even in writing for fanzines, since editors have to pay for paper and postage (or they did before ezines) they didn’t usually want long pieces. Heck, when I did my own zine and had to type ditto masters run the pages off on a ditto machine I aimed short.
Mind you, in the last book we wrote we did cut out about six chapters. We realized that we were actually just conveying information that was already known to the reader in a slightly different way, but not in a manner that really added much to the story. There were, though, some lovely bits and fine effects in there which I regret losing
Comment by Eric Mayer — January 17, 2007 @ 9:46 am
3.
Alphabeter — The simple answer is, no, not this time.
I recommend that, especially for beginners at finishing a novel, and it’s great for any writer of any experience or ability to get feedback, to have others catch things and make suggestions, and learn to take and learn from criticism. I’ve had people read nearly all my manuscripts, including reading friends, writing friends, and published novelists. With this book I belonged to a critique group early on, so some scenes in the first few chapters were read by them, but that was an early draft.
I don’t plan to have anyone else read the completed manuscript this time around, though. I’ve found that, no matter what, the people it has to please are the agent and editor who make decisions. Everyone else may love it, but the decision maker’s answer can still be no. So I plan to get it in as good a shape as possible on my own this time, and send it off.
Comment by Barbara — January 17, 2007 @ 10:02 am
4.
I have the distressing tendency toward making my scripts grammatically correct when I go back and re-write. Face it. No dialogue ever is grammatically correct; we don’t even pronounce words in their entirety, let alone structure our sentences during speech to suit our teachers. So my writing comes out stilted and oh, so, proper.
Bummer. Have to leave the dialogue alone, or read it out loud or something to keep it “real”-real what, I don’t know!
Comment by Sarah — January 17, 2007 @ 11:49 am
5.
This was an excellent post. Oddly, I seem to have no trouble with word count. Importantly, this does not mean my book is better. I ain’t published yet. Good heavens, I can’t even get an agent! But I knew my first book had to be on the shorter side, for all the reasons you stated. My word count is a mere 61,000. f note, I have had a few nibbles, but no takers yet.
It’s so interesting, Barbara, that you and I have both been fine-tuning our novels. Just yesterday, I mailed 6 queries/synopses out to agents. Three of those requested the opening 50 pages. I have worked like a demon the past few weeks. I fell into the 6th chapter trap – the action all of a sudden came to a screeching halt and I began to drone and bludgeon the reader with endless back story. I eliminated the chapter and ‘fed’ the required back story throughout the book. It really wasn’t that difficult. My pea brain just tires easily.
Brian was an excellent first reader for me. I take criticism well - at least regarding my novels – I’m a cry baby about everything else:), but am made of steel when readers give me feedback. I think it’s because I am so appreciate of them taking the time. Brian has been responsible for some of the best ideas in my first book.
I know this will put people on tilt, but after Brian, I like to find non-writer friends who will read my novels. I try to find someone who I would consider my target audience. The most important feedback I require from them: Did you enjoy my book enough to recommend it? I think this is crucial. I also solicit any other feedback they may have, but non-writers are generally too intimidated. It’s then that I seek professional proofreading and perhaps additional readers who are writers. This weekend I am going to give my manuscript to a good friend who reads a lot, a lot – and is a non-writer. She is very typical of my target audience – and she will be honest.
Sorry to blab away so much.
Comment by Reenie — January 17, 2007 @ 12:03 pm
6.
Eric — I think low word count can be every bit as frustrating a problem. There have been instances where I had that problem, just not in my fiction. But then I have always been told I live in a fantasy world.
Sarah — Reading out loud is an excellent tool for getting dialog right. I sometimes record a portion of what I’ve written and play it back to see if it sounds natural. Listening to conversations without taking an active part has helped me develop my ear for speech. Introvert that I am, that’s easy for me. Reading out loud is also an old proofreading trick. In fact there’s one school of thought that says the best proofreading is done by reading something outloud, backwards. I never went quite that far.
Reenie — Backstory can catch up with me the way you describe happening in your sixth chapter. Maybe that’s where we really get in touch with the characters. I found with this book that I didn’t get into the characters’ heads until the second draft. That’s when their whole life stories came to life in my mind, and a lot of backstory started to sneak in. I’ve noticed, on examination, that with stories where I didn’t get as personally involved with the characters, I didn’t have as much trouble keeping my word count down. Snow Angels was like that for me, and its final length of around 81,000 words wasn’t difficult for me to control. But I never felt quite as attached to the characters. Same with a couple of older manuscripts that never went anywhere.
I want that character attachment, but I’ll have to learn to control how it manifests, let it bring more depth to the story, without length getting out of control.
I’ve read that there are successful writers who typically write long and then need to cut, as well as those who never have that problem. Everyone’s a little different, and there are all manner of ways of getting the job done. So I’m hopeful that it’s something I can come to terms with and not let it stand in the way of getting published. At least I’m aware of it now — the first time it crept in, I didn’t realize what was happening. Awareness is half the battle.
Oh, and that’s a good point about getting a reader who represents your audience rather than another writer, to offer feedback on a manuscript. Maybe we writers tend to overanalyze stories. The reader who isn’t a writer has a fresh perspective.
Comment by Barbara — January 17, 2007 @ 3:18 pm
7.
Yup. Exactly. When I have another writer read my stuff, they get waaaay too analytical, which can be frustrating.
I meant to mention earlier, too, that flash fiction is some of the toughest stuff around to write well. Talk about every word needing to matter - especially if the story is supposed to be 100 words. Sometimes I go to The Story Board, a writing group I joined (I need to put the link on my site, if you want to check it out) and look for exercises involving flash fiction. It’s a great way to develop discipline. I also participated several times in a group where we were given 3 words each day for a month and were limited to 50 words each day. Not only was it a blast, but I chose my words with care and thought my short stories were some of my best.
Oops. Babbling again.
Comment by Reenie — January 17, 2007 @ 3:54 pm
8.
I have the same problem, myself. Great ideas here….
Comment by violetismycolor — January 17, 2007 @ 7:28 pm
9.
Writing “too long” can be a way for a writer to avoid the emotional issue at the heart of his or her character’s problem… a way to write “around” a problem rather than diving into it.
Writing “too short” can serve as a similar tactic, letting an author dance around a problem without facing it directly.
In the end, Barbara, it won’t matter whether you’ve written a 300 page novel or a 3 page short story if you haven’t developed the emotional core of the story… and enabled your reader to “feel” that emotional current running through your words.
Just cutting words isn’t enough, I’m afraid, if a writer hasn’t yet discovered the emotions driving his or her characters. That’s the key, I think, to compelling fiction.
I’d be willing to read a story of many pages or few pages if-and only if-the author is able to draw me into that fictional world and flesh out what the character is feeling… in a dramatic, compelling way… so that I can feel it, too.
Hope this helps.
Comment by Bruce Black — January 18, 2007 @ 12:39 pm
10.
Bruce — You blew me away with that response. You’re right, and I think that is at the heart of a lot of my over-writing. It happens when I’m dancing around the heart of the story, or the character’s feelings, or even a scene that’s challenging for me to convey. Thank you for putting that in words. So . . . it’s important to ensure that in my editing I find where that emotional core has been expressed, to do more work if it hasn’t, and to ensure it doesn’t get cut if it has. You’ve given me a lot to think about. That emotional core is the art of any piece of writing. Genre, literary, or a letter to a friend.
Violetismycolor — I think each of us has something important to express. Maybe that heart of the matter Bruce mentions is the reason any of us writes, or does artwork, or anything creative, and really the heart of the matter is the art of the matter. So it’s something every person works toward, no matter what we’re creating. I see it in what you share.
Comment by Barbara — January 18, 2007 @ 1:20 pm
11.
Excellent post, and too the comments. I would also say that your idea of getting into poetry worked extremely well for me in learning concise ways of drawing very vivid images. Description is often where we worst offend with too many words. Same thing with action where a line will do in poetry, yet we take a paragraph to say the same thing.
Comment by susan — January 18, 2007 @ 2:14 pm
12.
It really does help to have first written news pieces and other nonfiction, where the point is just to present the story, clearly and simply. Of course, then when we nonfiction writers try to write fiction, the problem is often to embellish and get the word count up. Is there any middle ground?
Comment by Georganna Hancock — January 19, 2007 @ 12:30 pm
13.
great post and great suggestions. As a former editor, (oh woe) I can only
tell you that editing is an art, and Thomas Wolfe owes his whole career to
an editor. No, the ‘everyday’ reader isn’t going to help your manuscript.
You need a professional eye to tell you where to cut and where to expand.
Using other (good) writers is the next best thing if you can’t afford to pay someone to edit. My penny and a half.
Hi Barb!!
Comment by Beverly Jackson — January 19, 2007 @ 2:29 pm
14.
I use the everyday reader first and then engage the services of a professional with the eye blah blah blah.
This works for me.
Comment by Reenie — January 19, 2007 @ 3:58 pm
15.
“dialog that’s too cute to live?”
Well, if it’s too “cute”, I’m guessing it has some emotional content.
Perhaps not the intended kind? Where’s that assault eraser when you need it?
Comment by Ken — January 20, 2007 @ 2:31 pm
16.
Susan — You hit on one place I tend to be old-fashioned, and that’s description. It used to be expected, now it’s minimized to mere mention. My favorite authors, when I was young, painted pictures with words. Thomas Hardy did it, the Brontës, Jane Austen, Mary Stewart. Some people think Tolkien’s descriptions were too long. I think they were just right. I could’ve stood more. All this seems to cross over into my writing. If poetry can help, it promises a delightful route to my goal.
Georganna — It’s always something, isn’t it? Maybe when you hit a perfect balance you achieve writer-enlightenment. Lots of good writers out there, not very many enlightened ones.
Bev — I’m so glad to hear from you. I didn’t know that about Thomas Wolfe, and until I looked him up after seeing your comment, I didn’t realize so many of his works were published after his death, and all with so much editing.
Ken — I like “assault eraser” better.
Comment by Barbara — January 20, 2007 @ 8:29 pm