I've finished the first phase of editing. Everything I want to change/improve so far is colorfully marked up. Now comes (I imagine) the first rewrite. I'm very excited. I haven't really got this far in editing solo.
I'll continue to keep readers updated on the progress of this project.
I promise there will be more actual writing soon, probably in the next few posts.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
The Writing Life-A Large Update in Which No Story is Posted, but Much is Told
I wanted to take some time to update any readers on how my work has been going, talk briefly about the shape of my writing experience and explain the circumstances that have prevented me from posting for a whole year (plus a few days).
First of all, I'm currently in full editing mode. I've pulled out Semester of the Wolves, a novella I wrote in seventh grade, and am in the process of giving it a major overhaul. In my initial editing, I've come up with a system where various colors code for various types of changes to make, and I use my word processor to highlight passages with these different colors. Red is for basic mistakes or issues with word flow. Blue is for weak dialogue or passages that need a stylistic shift. Purple is for big plot issues and character inconsistencies, and green is for passages I like.
I think this system works well because we're so used to seeing editing as a case of looking for the negatives in a story, as is evidenced by the rampant use of red pens in our literary society. I'm in favor of a revolt against this, and I've chosen to use different colors for two reasons:
1. It allows me to be more specific with my editing, and target a plethora of different issues
2. It literally adds a splash of color to the editing process, and seeing my manuscript slowly pick up patches of rainbow makes me feel more like an artist, and less like a critic.
Anyhow, once that's done, I'll proceed to remove the colored in sections with writing that fits the changes I want to make. Then, if necessary, I'll do a rewrite from the result. Self editing is hard, but I think I'm getting better at it.
The next thing I want to touch on in this blog post is a little autobiographical detail about my life as a writer so far. It's admittedly short (I'm only just on my way to college this year), but it's been exciting, and I look forward to developing a career.
I think the first time I discovered my love of writing was in fourth grade. My teacher did a whole English unit on poetry. Say what you will about public schools, there was magic happening in that class. We did get to read famous poems, but it was a unit primarily centered on writing our own poems on a given topic or in a certain style. It was then that poetry became a newly fascinating language to me. I learned that poems didn't have to rhyme (what? You mean I can just write cool phrases on a page and that's a poem? No 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' silliness?), that they could express emotions both simple and complex and that they could be a lot of fun to write. Even the form poems were enjoyable to me, as they gave me a chance to work creatively within a limit (though I write a lot of free verse, I have always found formats and forms in poetry to be inspirational frameworks, rather than constrictions).
From time to time, we would also get various writing prompts to do short stories. Some were from my teacher. Some were from the school district (I realize that they were probably writing samples for school evaluation). Either way, I seized the opportunity to write about whatever I thought was fun within the confines of the prompt (see the above statement on poetry forms). I even had fun writing a story for a writing section of a standardized test (the CSAP, for anyone curious).
By the time I got to sixth grade, I decided to do NaNoWriMo. For those who don't know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, and it's an event that takes place in the month of November where the goal is to write a novel/novella in a month, with a certain word count. I lowered my goal from the standard 50,000 words to a more modest 10,000, but I did it. My first novella, Way of the Shadows, was finished on November 30th. Reading it again, it's not one I plan to salvage any time soon for publication, but the joy in writing it was worth everything.
I've continued to do NaNoWriMo since then. A few years ago, a mentor and very close friend of mine showed me his stream-of-consciousness free verse poetry. I realized the fiendishly clever use of poetry as the ultimate private diary. Obscure anything in thick enough metaphor, and readers can pick up on the emotional strength, but the events and mental states the work inspires will be known only to the poet. I continued to write poems for aesthetic reasons, but whenever I need to vent, I'll still just ramble in free verse. A lot less angsty than mood journalling (though I've taken up journalling for creative purposes as well).
Probably the third formative event in my writing life was attending the Juniper Institute for Young Writers, which is an amazing week-long creative writing workshop at the University of Massachusetts. I got in the first time by virtue of being the only student interested in writing at my very small high school, then was invited back the next year by the Institute. Juniper was amazing. I learned a good deal of technique, to be sure, but even more significant was the amount of confidence in my own process I gained. Here was a group of people who went through the same creative struggles as I did. These were people my age who were equally unsatisfied with the everyday world's grind and tired mode of expression. Each one brought their own unique voice, which really infused flavor into everything we did as a group. Working day to day, I don't get a chance to talk with many other writers, and so the whole process takes on a sort of lonely artist hue. Juniper was probably one of the best things that happened to my creative confidence and diligence.
Now, I'm going to briefly talk about what's happened this year and where I'm hoping to go next.
In the past year and a half, I've tried to publish Heretic, my fantasy novella. Of the various indie and large-scale publishers I sent it out to, all of them rejected it. There was no response, except from one press that was kind enough to send a courteous email telling me they didn't publish genre fiction (which is a pretentious categorization in my opinion, but that's another blog post). I may send it out again, but I'll probably just wait and try with my next major work. I'm not too worried. I've been told to expect this sort of thing for awhile, and I've still got plenty of time and plenty of ideas.
Senior year of high school happened, and various other stories and poems have slowly progressed. I wrote my NaNoWriMo piece, a story involving a secret society of dead authors (may post here, not likely to publish officially). I'm headed off to Knox College in the fall, hoping to major in creative writing.
I admire people who stick to their dreams, even if they seem impractical or unprofitable to the rest of the world. I want to be one of those people. I'll get a day job if I have to (writers have to eat, after all) but I'm not going to be someone who gets a career that's "safe" and is well paid, but unsatisfied. All in all, I don't care about being famous. I don't care if my work is remembered for hundreds of years. All I want to do is to make a living doing what I love. And I'm prepared to work as hard as I need to to achieve that dream.
I admire also, people who are still willing to read books and tell stories. Here's to everyone who is willing to believe in fantastic tales, who understands what life, true living is all about.
To writers, readers, dreamers and everyone with a spark in their eye and a spring in their step even when keeping those things means pain and even a few scars, I say,
"Let's rock this world!"
First of all, I'm currently in full editing mode. I've pulled out Semester of the Wolves, a novella I wrote in seventh grade, and am in the process of giving it a major overhaul. In my initial editing, I've come up with a system where various colors code for various types of changes to make, and I use my word processor to highlight passages with these different colors. Red is for basic mistakes or issues with word flow. Blue is for weak dialogue or passages that need a stylistic shift. Purple is for big plot issues and character inconsistencies, and green is for passages I like.
I think this system works well because we're so used to seeing editing as a case of looking for the negatives in a story, as is evidenced by the rampant use of red pens in our literary society. I'm in favor of a revolt against this, and I've chosen to use different colors for two reasons:
1. It allows me to be more specific with my editing, and target a plethora of different issues
2. It literally adds a splash of color to the editing process, and seeing my manuscript slowly pick up patches of rainbow makes me feel more like an artist, and less like a critic.
Anyhow, once that's done, I'll proceed to remove the colored in sections with writing that fits the changes I want to make. Then, if necessary, I'll do a rewrite from the result. Self editing is hard, but I think I'm getting better at it.
The next thing I want to touch on in this blog post is a little autobiographical detail about my life as a writer so far. It's admittedly short (I'm only just on my way to college this year), but it's been exciting, and I look forward to developing a career.
I think the first time I discovered my love of writing was in fourth grade. My teacher did a whole English unit on poetry. Say what you will about public schools, there was magic happening in that class. We did get to read famous poems, but it was a unit primarily centered on writing our own poems on a given topic or in a certain style. It was then that poetry became a newly fascinating language to me. I learned that poems didn't have to rhyme (what? You mean I can just write cool phrases on a page and that's a poem? No 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' silliness?), that they could express emotions both simple and complex and that they could be a lot of fun to write. Even the form poems were enjoyable to me, as they gave me a chance to work creatively within a limit (though I write a lot of free verse, I have always found formats and forms in poetry to be inspirational frameworks, rather than constrictions).
From time to time, we would also get various writing prompts to do short stories. Some were from my teacher. Some were from the school district (I realize that they were probably writing samples for school evaluation). Either way, I seized the opportunity to write about whatever I thought was fun within the confines of the prompt (see the above statement on poetry forms). I even had fun writing a story for a writing section of a standardized test (the CSAP, for anyone curious).
By the time I got to sixth grade, I decided to do NaNoWriMo. For those who don't know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, and it's an event that takes place in the month of November where the goal is to write a novel/novella in a month, with a certain word count. I lowered my goal from the standard 50,000 words to a more modest 10,000, but I did it. My first novella, Way of the Shadows, was finished on November 30th. Reading it again, it's not one I plan to salvage any time soon for publication, but the joy in writing it was worth everything.
I've continued to do NaNoWriMo since then. A few years ago, a mentor and very close friend of mine showed me his stream-of-consciousness free verse poetry. I realized the fiendishly clever use of poetry as the ultimate private diary. Obscure anything in thick enough metaphor, and readers can pick up on the emotional strength, but the events and mental states the work inspires will be known only to the poet. I continued to write poems for aesthetic reasons, but whenever I need to vent, I'll still just ramble in free verse. A lot less angsty than mood journalling (though I've taken up journalling for creative purposes as well).
Probably the third formative event in my writing life was attending the Juniper Institute for Young Writers, which is an amazing week-long creative writing workshop at the University of Massachusetts. I got in the first time by virtue of being the only student interested in writing at my very small high school, then was invited back the next year by the Institute. Juniper was amazing. I learned a good deal of technique, to be sure, but even more significant was the amount of confidence in my own process I gained. Here was a group of people who went through the same creative struggles as I did. These were people my age who were equally unsatisfied with the everyday world's grind and tired mode of expression. Each one brought their own unique voice, which really infused flavor into everything we did as a group. Working day to day, I don't get a chance to talk with many other writers, and so the whole process takes on a sort of lonely artist hue. Juniper was probably one of the best things that happened to my creative confidence and diligence.
Now, I'm going to briefly talk about what's happened this year and where I'm hoping to go next.
In the past year and a half, I've tried to publish Heretic, my fantasy novella. Of the various indie and large-scale publishers I sent it out to, all of them rejected it. There was no response, except from one press that was kind enough to send a courteous email telling me they didn't publish genre fiction (which is a pretentious categorization in my opinion, but that's another blog post). I may send it out again, but I'll probably just wait and try with my next major work. I'm not too worried. I've been told to expect this sort of thing for awhile, and I've still got plenty of time and plenty of ideas.
Senior year of high school happened, and various other stories and poems have slowly progressed. I wrote my NaNoWriMo piece, a story involving a secret society of dead authors (may post here, not likely to publish officially). I'm headed off to Knox College in the fall, hoping to major in creative writing.
I admire people who stick to their dreams, even if they seem impractical or unprofitable to the rest of the world. I want to be one of those people. I'll get a day job if I have to (writers have to eat, after all) but I'm not going to be someone who gets a career that's "safe" and is well paid, but unsatisfied. All in all, I don't care about being famous. I don't care if my work is remembered for hundreds of years. All I want to do is to make a living doing what I love. And I'm prepared to work as hard as I need to to achieve that dream.
I admire also, people who are still willing to read books and tell stories. Here's to everyone who is willing to believe in fantastic tales, who understands what life, true living is all about.
To writers, readers, dreamers and everyone with a spark in their eye and a spring in their step even when keeping those things means pain and even a few scars, I say,
"Let's rock this world!"
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