So Close…And So Creeped Out
Thirty pages away from the end of this revision; I’m considering another pass after this. It’s not quite The Book That Would Not Die, but it’s close.
Many writers get upset over revisions, which is normal. But it’s important to remember that most editors have no personal animus against you the writer, or against your work. It feels awful personal, of course–the work is your baby, of course it feels personal. But it’s not. Most times the editor just wants to make the work the best it can be.
For the writer, revisions are a delicate balancing act. One has to balance between the vision of the work and a fresh pair of eyes seeing what might be flaws or holes. It is rare that the editor just wants to make you suffer. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen–I’m just saying that nine times out of ten, when you think that’s happening, it’s not the case.
A lot of fledgling writers either slavishly take every suggestion of their editor as gospel or resist every comma change. Neither is the correct approach. Somewhere flexibly in-between is best. One has to accept that one’s deathless prose isn’t, well, deathless. It’s hard to keep that in mind after however-many drafts and in the emotional heat of revision, but it’s well worth trying to remember.
And now, to change the subject, a couple of news items that creep me out mightily. First, there’s the news that the Guv’mint is watching you–even when you’re playing World of Warcraft. How bloody invasive is THAT? (Note to self: must quit throwing the apple of discord into Trade chat. No matter HOW fun it is.)
The second piece of news is creeeeeepy. Mark Morford wrote this morning about the Dyatlov Pass Incident. Nine skiers tearing their way out of their tent in the middle of a subzero night and running pell-mell, almost naked, down a moutainside? Radiation? Hair turning gray?
No human footsteps other than the their own?
*shiver* Oooooooh. Weird. Weirder than anything I could come up with. The world is much weirder than human beings like to suppose. It is a constant source of aggravation to me that fiction needs the suspension of disbelief in order to be successful, even when Real Life is so zany and wacked-out nobody would believe it if you wrote it down. Another artistic dilemma.
Hmmm. On the other hand, that would make a good story…if one could keep from being paranoid and creeped-out while writing it. Given how often art informs life, I’d be wary of doing so.
But not too wary.
Possibly not wary enough.
