Die, darlings, die!
C.E. Grundler
One of the best things about being a writer is how we get to create our own little imaginary worlds, populated with fascinating characters of our design, who say and do as we chose. Oh, the power! Through the wonder of self-publishing, we get to share this world with as many strangers as we can entice into visiting, and with any luck, they like what they see and tell their friends. If enough people start visiting, that's good reason to keep writing, and that works for me.
But recently the rules have changed. As I said last week, I've signed on for a two-book deal with Thomas & Mercer, and part of that deal involves some serious editing for Last Exit In New Jersey. T&M is extremely author-friendly; my contract states that I have the right to refuse any and all editorial suggestions they advise. It's my book, and they will publish it exactly as is if I so chose. But I realize I'm being given the opportunity to work with people who have far more experience editing and marketing books than I could ever imagine. If they have suggestions for where we can improve my writing, I'm going to listen.
T&M tells me a book like mine, ideally, should fall between 85,000 and 100,000 words. Not 122,000. They'd like to cut 15,000-20,000 words. I saw this coming. Over and over I've been reassured I don't HAVE to, but in the back of my mind I've always known some radical cutting would improve things, only I didn't know where to begin. I knew this would be painful, but I vowed I'd listen carefully to each and every cut my editor suggests. Does a passage truly serve a purpose? Does it move the story forward, or simply fill the page with some witty dialog or lovely descriptions that do nothing for the story as a whole.
Well, so far, we've trimmed away over 10,000 words, and we're just getting started. Some of it is simply cleaning up my writing. This is my first book, a book written by a writer who admittedly stopped paying attention halfway through high-school, briefly attended college, and never studied anything remotely related to writing. Other than the input of some cherished friends and family, I've been flying by the seat of my pants, But now it's time to take this up a notch, to make it professional. If a professional editor marks off some of my dearest darlings for elimination and I can't prove to him or myself that they serve any other purpose beyond making me happy, it's time for them to go. Ah, the blood-bath!
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