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Writer emerges from the undergrowth, stained and ragged and wild-eyed from having taken “the short cut” to getting this thing in order. Taking it down to be printed somewhere else never happened, due to Lifestuff. So Writer elected to do it all in the machine (the printer is not happy about churning out lots of pages in a hurry. Some pages in a hurry, fine. 800+ pages in a hurry…not fine.) Writer then looked at the mass of thick, impenetrable brush in front of her and spotted what looked like a short-cut game trail. And plunged in.
You would think after all these books that Writer would know better. You would know better. You’ve been on those “short-cuts” that take you down long, narrow, winding roads without good scenery–through some rusting industrial sector where the guys on the street corners are turning to watch you go by like a pride of lions spotting a lone antelope. But Writer, with an eye on the clock, decided to risk it. Writer got well into the middle of the brush with a machete, a torn scrap of map, and a compass that Writer had not bothered to check out with the map ahead of time. Because that would have taken time, you see.
So Writer whacked away at the brush, and dragged the cut pieces here and there, and the manuscript grew under this treatment…850 pages, 900 pages, 950 pages…until Writer had no idea where anything was–not the original chapters, not the chunks moved, not how much of the now much more unwieldy mess was leftover pieces that had been copied and pasted but not deleted from their former location, and how much was new stuff filling holes Writer kept finding.
Writer spent days being stupid. Inventing wheels that weren’t round, or wouldn’t turn, or were made of tissue paper.
Finally, Writer remembered how Writer had invented a wheel for this situation in another book. The ONLY way to work on a chronological mess in the computer and not go crazy. Writer looked frantically at the calendar (for many days had passed in doing it wrong) and spent two days using the right re-invented wheel. The additional 170 pages of duplication buried in the brush disappeared. Despite Writer’s loud complaints to the walls, moans & groans, consumption of an astonishing amount of Green & Black’s 85% dark chocolate, whining to spouse, etc., by 3 pm on the second day, Book IV was reassembled in what is *probably* the correct order.
Probably only because there are balance problems, now very visible, and which–if they can’t be corrected by taking the Chain Saw of Correction and chopping Mmph and Umpph to reasonable size, will require either Mmph or Umpph to be moved (upsetting other things, but those can be fixed, maybe) or one of them to be delayed to the next book (which I really, REALLY do not want to do.)
Mmph, on re-reading, turns out to have quite a bit of lovely stuff that isn’t, strictly speaking, necessary. Descriptions, internal reactions to what is observed…but POV character as tourist observing stuff is not necessary unless the stuff observed becomes critical to something late on. And…it’s not. Besides, Umpph travels the same route later and some of *that* is POV character (different one) as tourist observing stuff. And in previous books, two other POV characters have traveled that same route. No, three. So that road is no longer a fascinating new treat for readers unless something happens on it.
Mmph and Umpph also spend time in the same place (different times) as POV characters. There are delightful moments. There are too many delightful moments. All they do is establish that Mmph isn’t entirely comfortable there, and Umpph is entirely too comfortable there. Fewer perfectly chosen moments would establish both those POVs and reduce the imbalance of the first quarter year to the rest.
Oh, the wheel that worked? Divide the “book time” into four quarters (I use four; it could be thirds or fifths.) Create a file for each quarter. Working from the back, put each chapter into its quarter of “book time.” Delete that file from the main book-file after checking that it actually made it into the quarter file (amazing how sometimes you think you did the copy/paste and you didn’t do the paste part becuase the phone rang, someone came to the door, etc. ALWAYS check. I saved two chapters that way on this effort.) Then look at each quarter and sort the chapters in that quarter into order. X’s preparation for Y must precede Y. R’s decision not to reveal zzzzz must precede zzzz being revealed. And so on. Duplicate chapters will be easily caught in the quarter files, during the ordering process. When all the quarter files are ordered, replace in the main book file, quarter by quarter, from the top.
Now, of course, all the holes are obvious. Um…this chapter ends right before a revelation…that does not ever occur. And the duplicate scenes in different chapters covering the same events. Oops. Pick one. And the things moved up from the previous book, which now are outdated and need to be discarded or reworked in light of present circumstances. But unless Mmph and Umpph need to be moved, it’s all in the right order now. Just a mess. But an ordered mess.
I need to make a little book of reminders for myself so I don’t have to reinvent wheels so much. But I’d misplace it and not be able to find it when I need it.
Onward. Today the Chain Saw of Correction is snarling away in my head and seeing all those excessive delicious moments. Including those I look at now and think “Why on earth did I spent a day writing *that* 2000 words???” By tonight, it should be even clearer where the main route through the story-country is, and I should be able to start hole-filling.
Comment by Patrick Doris — October 22, 2011 @ 12:06 pm
That is an excellent technique. I have a big editing job to do and I hope I may borrow it and the chain saw of correction when you are finish with them.
Comment by OtterB — October 22, 2011 @ 12:55 pm
I do hope some of the excised chunks (those that are just Too Much instead of outdated/incompatible with the direction the story eventually took) can eventually morph into snippets of some kind, when they will no longer be spoilers.
Comment by Kip Colegrove — October 22, 2011 @ 1:54 pm
I assume the Plot Daemon is in chains (perhaps in the underground cells in the Fox Company stronghold) drying out after an extended spree of drunk and disorderly conduct.
Comment by Jenn — October 22, 2011 @ 2:13 pm
This is why I knit.
Comment by elizabeth — October 22, 2011 @ 3:18 pm
OtterB: Some of them might, but mostly they’re not true story-stuff. They’re me writing and trying to get to the story-stuff. Though if someone really wants a detailed description of a room that has no plot significance except for making someone homesick by being so different…keeping in mind it will interest only people who are furnishings geeks….
Kip: No, no, no. It’s not the Plot Daemon’s fault. I was distracted much of the time, and thus wandering around latching onto any growth point I could spot, rather than really listening to him. Besides–punish the Plot Daemon who’s given me all these books? What if he quit?
Jenn: Chuckle.
Comment by Laura BurgandyIce — October 22, 2011 @ 5:04 pm
Oh. My.
Eche las ganas. You’re doing great!!!
Comment by elizabeth — October 22, 2011 @ 6:38 pm
And I was an optimist to think I’d be through with the rough chain-sawing today. I’m still in the first quarter.
Comment by Kip Colegrove — October 22, 2011 @ 7:43 pm
I wasn’t so much thinking of punishing the plot Daemon as giving him a chance to steady down. But of course you’re right; steadying down is not a daemon’s job. They’re ebulliently creative, if occasionally obstreperous. My Lyric Daemon has straightened me out about that.
Interesting, how steadying down sometimes requires a chain saw.
Comment by Daniel Glover — October 23, 2011 @ 6:11 am
Elizabeth,
I don’t have to remind you of the obvious now. 😉 You’ve written your method down here for bushwacking, so you only have to remember to come find it here in the future. We used it at work for stuff like that. Then the problem was “Where was that filed in the blog?” So at least it’s written down. 🙂
Comment by Nigel — October 23, 2011 @ 6:38 am
If there are chapters or areas that do not make the book – can you post them on line after the book is released and put the link somewhere useful?
My daughter found “extra pages” for a book that she liked (“Little Red Riding Hood) – can not take responsibility for her taste in reading!
Comment by Eir de Scania — October 23, 2011 @ 3:14 pm
Snippets are always welcome, true story-stuff or not. Mmph and Umpph will be happy, their POV may not make it into the books, but their stories will still be read.
Comment by MaryW — October 23, 2011 @ 5:40 pm
My suggestion before any major changes are made, copy the original file to an external drive. Then when accidents happen, recovery is possible.
I am not a writer of books, just databases. Before any revisions a copy is made and I hate to admit how many times I need to refer to the original.
Comment by patricia nancarrow — October 23, 2011 @ 6:10 pm
I like everyone else would love to read the stories that Mmph and Umpph have to tell. I am
hoping that some time in the future I will see their stories in a book shop near me.
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2011 @ 7:00 pm
MaryW. Yes, that’s part of the process–I didn’t mention it because I guess I thought that’s what everyone did with their files. Revision always involves archiving the pre-revision file, in case I need it, and usually multiple part-way versions as well, along with the normal “saved” versions of what I’m working on. I think (without looking at the moment) that there are five external-archived versions of Book IV at the moment. Pre-chronological arrangement, chronological arrangement pre-chainsawing, backup of the more extensive chainsawed section, current working version. And maybe more.
It’s essential to have a copy of what is about to be rearranged or cut just in case.
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2011 @ 7:01 pm
We’ll see. Umpph almost deserves a book. So far.
Comment by elizabeth — October 23, 2011 @ 7:02 pm
We’ll see. Time is a factor, as well as that unconnected bits don’t really make a story.
Comment by jonathan Schor — October 24, 2011 @ 10:48 am
Sounds like you are having fun. I have started rereading the Vatta Saga – good stuff.
Comment by Gareth — October 25, 2011 @ 7:19 am
With all the chain-sawing there might be a few snippets on the cutting room floor that could see the light here … ?? (please)
Comment by elizabeth — October 25, 2011 @ 7:51 am
Sorry, you can have snippets only from the next book out, which is Echoes of Betrayal. The chain-sawing is happening in Book IV. Snippets from Book IV would be highly (highly!!) spoilerish.
And what is cut by a writer is very different from what is cut by a director. You must not consider a writer’s cuts in various drafts in the same light as director’s cuts from raw film footage.
Consider: a movie is shot from a script. If it’s a movie made from a book, the story is already there in depth–in the book, and in the script written from the book. So the raw film footage is already part of the story. The actors are in costume and made up, they’re acting out the story. the decision to cut is (usually) that the film is just too long. The cut parts are part of the story, they’re just removed for length.
Writing–at least my writing–is a lot messier than that. It’s my job to determine what is really part of the story and what is not. The pieces that are not part of the story must be cut…and they do not belong. It’s more like sculpture, only sculpture in which the original block of marble has to be made first, by the sculptor, before it can be carved, and the non-statue part chiseled away. If you were hanging about Michelangelo’s workplace, would you think every chunk of marble he hammered and chiseled away from the “David” was a potential jewel? No. It’s a fragment of marble–larger, smaller, down to dust size–and by itself tells you nothing about how he works, and contains nothing of his genius. Michelangelo would not consider saving the chunks to display alongside the finished sculpture…they’re meaningless.
So are most of the fragments I cut.
Only when I’m cutting for length only and not for quality of story are the cut bits worth showing. Snippets are a completely different critter: they are fragments of the completed work or fragments of something cut for length.
Comment by Gareth — October 25, 2011 @ 11:08 am
I was thinking they are more like early sketches by an artist which might not have made the final picture but are nonetheless often highly valued.
I guess it depends on the size of the snipping. Pruning a few small parts wouldn’t work, but sometimes there might be a scene which we would find interesting which is still valid and in character but ended up not required.
Oh well it was worth a try – we like snippets.
Comment by elizabeth — October 25, 2011 @ 9:23 pm
Gareth, if you take the visual artist approach (which isn’t as accurate–I also draw) it’s more like a sheet of paper on which the artist has doodles–not all related to the final picture, just doodles–mixed with notes to self about what need to be done on the next trip to town, mixed with a phone number from the answering machine. My process is messy. Very, very, VERY messy. You mostly hear about the less messy parts of it, when I have a good day and things flow along being scenes in the book. There are days when I simply accumulate words. It’s like scales in music. Do words. Do words every day, ignoring at first whether they’re good words, mediocre words, bad words. Ignore my own feelings, ignore any crises in my life, just do words. Do enough, and the good words will return, the flow will come back. They’re often related to the book (sometimes very tangentially.) And the thing is…I choose NOT to share any words I’m not happy with. When I write a boring, clunky paragraph…you don’t get to see it. You may think you’d find it “interesting.” But…no.
I was once dragged through some textual analysis including looking at an author’s (dead author’s) series of drafts…and it completely ruined the final version for me. All the others stuck in my brain and got between me and the final version. I don’t care what word a writer thought of first–I want to read the one he or she was happy with in the end. I don’t care what was left out of a work, if it works for me the way it is when I read it.
You will get snippets. You will get side stories when I think they’re ready. But you will not get the stuff I think is bad.