The Writing Moment
Going well. He crossed his fingers and sacrificed a cup of coffee and a pen to ward off jinxing himself. One book was still being revised, the fourth go-around. Another novel, Yum, was being written. Spoon fed by the muses, he was tearing through the story. He envisioned a short novel, and so far, it was going to plan.
Knock on wood.
The Writing Moment
Into the fourth revision I go. The novel flows more smoothly and the story so far feels complete and true. That’s a big reach when only fifteen percent has been done in this round but I hold onto any sign of progress and completion that’s found.
Meanwhile, I’ve started writing another novel, of course, because stories stir restlessly in the mind’s wings, eager to for their moment to be explored and told.
The Writing Moment
I finished the third round of revision and editing for The Light of Memories. Don’t think the title is ever mentioned in the book BTW. When I read the last chapter, a short but sturdy creature, I cried. Not sure if the crying was for the character, ending, or being done with the process again. There I was at the coffee shop, a few years short of seventy, looking at my laptop and struggling against tears. Fortunately, I don’t think anyone noticed because I’m a man a few years short of seventy at a coffee shop.
I saved the doc and closed it, and then resumed writing another novel. I don’t know if time waits for anyone but I do know that when the muses say jump, I jump and then ask, “How high?”
The Writing Moment
The final hundred pages were attacked. He brooded. My god, this was boring writing, wasn’t it? Did it advance the story? Not to his mind today. Slash, cut.
After tough decisions on two chapters, the rest went with stunning, engrossing speed. Fifty pages were read and edited in the next two hours.
Just fifty pages remained, for this go-around. Then there’d be another. Because he needed to ensure the book made sense with the cuts made. That he hadn’t inadvertently destroyed continuity and coherence.
But for today and now, he felt pretty damn good about it.
The Writing Moment
Bright sunshine storms the world outside the coffee shop window. Yes, it’s a sunstorm fronting a blue sky, a cruel thing. Exerts the kind of pull felt when he was a teenager and a girl asked him to come to her house to listen to music.
He’s here to write. Edit. Just thirteen months into the novel in progress. Third revision session. Halfway through. Must be done.
With a promise to the day, I’ll join you later, he opens the novel and resumes.
The Writing Moment
Twenty-five percent through editing the third draft of “The Light of Memories”. It’s fun, and I think that’s because it can now be read mostly as a book and less than a work in progress. Small changes are the norm until — clunk, a section or chapter is encountered that needs such work that orange cones are deployed. I generally stop for the day when hitting those — there have been three — to think about what is wrong and how I might change it. I also continue refining the ending. Won’t know how well it fits now until I read through to it. Of course, the changes mean that there will be another editing and revision go-around before it’s turned over to the copy-editor.
Meanwhile, since I announced a new writing project will begin (yeah, it’s actually well underway at this point), several people have asked when the third book of the Life Lessons series with Studs will come out. I think I owe it to write number three.
I wanted to clarify my thinking about drafts. My first rough draft is labeled #1, but that’s a little misleading. My writing is an unplanned, iterative process. (There is a sort of map in my head, but heads can be so unreliable about this stuff.) So I don’t call those first efforts drafts, but iterations. Six iterations were pursued before the first rough draft was completed. It’s formally called a draft when a complete story — beginning, middle, and end — exists and can be read from one end to the other. With iterations, I often go down stubs to explore characters, concept, story, events, and settings. Some of these stubs don’t pan out. When that happens, a new iteration is initiated. Some stubs make it into the first draft but not infrequently are excised during the first editing and revision phase.
There’s always so much to read, write, edit, and do. Fortunately, it’s the life I’ve chosen.
Michael Seidel, writer 