THURSDAY'S MUSINGS. (PART 2)

Status: Writing Chapter 16 to Stories of the Dead Earth-Book 3: Jasper

Doing: Writing this blog; surfing the net; answering e-mails; working out

Watching: Nothing at the moment. (News hasn't started.)

Listening to: "Sugar Steps" by Kama Sutra; Visions of Ibiza--Disc 1.

Reading: Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey (Page 123)


TOPIC: BUCKING THE TREND


As I discussed earlier at the beginning of the last entry, there are people out there who want to either sanitize or severely trim my books so that they read better, sound better, and yadda, yadda, yadda.

I remember coming across someone yesterday in one of my writer groups; telling everyone that her book was 195,000 words, but she managed to get it down to 120,000.

She said that it sounded better, read better, and was more "action-packed".

The sad thing about this example is this writer may not even know her own true potential--if she keeps axing out all the important parts to her novel; if she keeps streamlining her work to fit a standard template for publishing.

I've seen this many times over the years, where writers have novels ranging from 150K to as much as 300K--but in the end...?

They end up taking so much out of it.

And for what? To fit in?

The point of being a writer isn't to destroy what you've gone and created for the sake of money, the premise of being traditionally published, and the potential to become one of those famous authors who can live independently on their own self-absorbed income.

The point is to tell a story. To build a foundation for yourself and your work.

Naturally, I have people tell me that I cannot hold onto everything I write, but I do--because I am telling a story. Not just writing a novel.

The use of words is more than just an illustrious example of going for the Big Cheese and impressing your peeps on the internet.

We use them to express ourselves, to illustrate our creations, and most importantly--to tell a story.

But if we strive to limit ourselves in our pursuits of that, then we limit ourselves in our own potential as a writer.

How do we profess to be published authors, if we continue to take out the most important parts to our novels--by toning down our words, trimming out every bit of prose and replace it with choppy; non-connected sentences and phrases?

It may look good and passable to the untrained eye, but for those of us whom write and weave our tales into telling tomes which enrapture our respective audiences...?

Inside, I'm screaming!

For example?

In my first generation version of The Starchild, there is a scene between Isis and Bayen at a place called Observation Park.

This is the first opening sentence to it:

"...it was the most breathtaking place she had ever been to. The trees in the park gave way to a translucent dome that showed a panorama of stars and a pure white moon..."

To anyone reading this, this would sound okay, right?

Wrong!

This opening paragraph just sucks! Why? Because it doesn't show anything!

It doesn't go into depth, doesn't express the whole feeling of actually being there, and doesn't impart anything important to the reader.

It lacks detail, it lacks depth, and it lacks impact.

But this example is what publishers want for their books! Overall, the majority of the novels we read today are done in this particular format.

This streamlined example is what goes into most writers' exposes when they complete their books.

Here is the updated version to that same scene. And while you may instantly notice that there is no mention of the dome, the trees, or the stars in the opening scene, most of what went into Observation Park's description had been taken out for something more sublime and easier to assimiliate:

"...The very second the doors opened, Isis felt like she was walking into another world. From her point of view, that’s exactly what it was. And this raw sense of feeling left her breathless as a result..."

What's changed between the two examples? Quite a bit!

In the 10 years since this book was completed, the style and voice in which I had been stuck with had suddenly transformed into something which exudes more confidence, more imagination, and more emotion.

The first opening words to the first example: "...it was the most breathtaking place she had ever been in..."--had been replaced with, "...the very second the doors opened, Isis felt like she was walking into another world..."

4-5 years ago--this particular change had taken place because I had started to see things differently about the way I was writing. It wasn't something which I was desperate for, but it was a natural evolution in my abilities and writing.

And I took that opportunity in May of 2003 to reconstruct The Starchild completely from scratch by rewriting the 2nd draft version into something new.

But this new version was much different than the old-version. The old version was more compact, more direct--and didn't offer the reader a chance to do much of anything--except to plow right through the novel at a breakneck pace.

This second example illustrates how my writing style transformed into something else. Something which is lacking in the current media mainstream of novels.

The first example only used 2 short sentences to describe the opening scene (which was on page 105 of the first draft), and didn't use more than one powerword to impact the reader with. (Breathtaking)

The second rough example used three sentences to revamp the opening scene with (which was on page 480 of the third draft). But they aren't short sentences either. They are elaborately spun pieces of prose.

By drawing out the scene into something the reader can picture inside their heads, the reader can get a good, solid grasp of what's really going on.

This isn't what publishers really are after. They want books that are quick and to the point. Namely because readers these days have woefully short attention recall, and the older generation of readers aren't reading as much as they used to. (Not to mention that teens these days are spending more of their reading time on the 'net, on their games, and other techno-distractions--that reading has become something of a lost 'art' these days.)

The second example also uses a revamped version of breathtaking by using the word breathlessly to describe an emotional state.

When was the last time your character freely expressed themselves in one manner or another--rather than just blindly rushing through the whole scene or the process altogether?

Dollars to doughnuts, they haven't. And if they have, the moment in question was much too fleeting to pay it any mind; for both the author and the reader.

Oddly enough, I find that the second example needs some further tweaking--which is yet another clear example of my abilities evolving further still.

But...

The second example has been transformed from what was a bland form of writing into a more emotional core platform which gives Isis McGowan a sense of realism and physical presence.

Which the first example clearly lacked.

This is what is meant by "bucking the trend" in writing.

By doing something which rubs against the grain of conventional thought and due process.

This is what the industry and many of my critics are so dead set against wanting to see happen.

Being traditionally published may be good and all for the aspiring writer whom craves nothing more than their 15 minutes of fame, but what it will always boil down to is whether or not that published plebe has the ability to convey themselves well as a master story-teller.

Doing a rush job on the whole thing won't get any of us any closer to our said goals. Because once you write something and complete it, you really aren't finished with the project in question.

You're just starting a process that only scratches the surface.

If you really want to shine, then you have to really grasp what you've written. Not just how well it reads to you, but every little crack, every little nuance--until (at some point)--you're really certain that this is what you first envisioned when you started out.

Because if it isn't...?

Then you still have a lot of work ahead of you until you do.

And that's the truth.