I swear, writing a novel is like giving birth. And I’m having contractions.
I’m about at that point where I start yelling, “GET IT OUT OF ME! GET IT OUT OF ME!”
I really am almost done. Maybe ten, fifteen pages left? I’m so bloody close I can almost taste it. Ugh. Insert different metaphor.
I’m thinking about plot. The plot of my story, specifically. I probably ought to read some articles or books on it before starting the rewriting process. I don’t think I have a bad plot, I just need to sort of cement it together, if that makes sense.
Needless to say, once the writing part is done, the real work begins on this monstrosity. I think the first draft of a story is really telling it to yourself. After that, you get into translation. Ooh, sudden epiphany. Rewriting really is sort of a translation process, I think. Yeah, that’s it. Because we all understand what we write ourselves. It’s our world, we created it, and then we have to make our world their world. Or, more correctly, your world. That’s what the rewriting process is all about. In the writing process, we work in a bunch of stuff as it occurs to us: backstory with no real stake in the plot, secondary and tertiary characters who won’t pipe down, stuff like that.
When we start editing and rewriting, we have to put the whole story on the chopping block and figure out the most power-packed, efficient route from Point A to Point B. Simple as that. Except it hurts like hell.
On that happy note, I’m off to finish Primeval.
Get every new post delivered to your Inbox
Join other followers