Juicy Revision

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When my husband and I tried our new juicer this past weekend, we had some adventures. Pulp started spraying everywhere--on us, the counter, the floor. Turns out the pulp container wasn't secured properly. It is truly a pulp catcher, therefore be advised not to leave even the smallest of gaps between it and the machine or the vegetables will turn violent. Once that got fixed, our juice emerged without further incident.

Juicing is all the rage now because it gives us quick access to micronutrients. I'm turning to it because I recently saw the documentary FAT, SICK, AND NEARLY DEAD and felt compelled to improve my diet. My excuse for eating too much processed food is that I have a busy job, almost 90 minutes of commuting per day, and a writer's life stuffed into every nook and cranny. I've eaten more turkey sandwiches than I can count.

I've only so far tried one of the Mean Green recipes that Joe Cross recommends from his documentary, but I love it. I love the fresh sting of ginger, the sweetness of apple, and the bite of lemon. I love knowing I'm getting kale and carrot straight into my system. Last night we tried lime, lemon, celery, kale,  parsley, and green apple. Excellent.

Writers are forever cursed with seeing symbol, and pathetic fallacy or not, we get ideas from life and its objects constantly. That ol' living-to-write curse: our dramas and struggles grip the juicer, too, and get mirrored in the fruits and veggies. So of course you know where this is headed: how juicing = writing and pulp catcher = revision in that classic metaphor equation.

The pulp is that frothy, fuzzy, even fluffy mix of rind and pith and whatever the juicer sees fit to reject (who am I to question the wisdom of the Breville). It's no doubt healthy and even edible. But it must go. To get a consumable juice for our best drinking pleasure and dietary benefit, you need to let go of the pulp. My husband tried some last night, because it is kind of pretty, and he said, "You know what? It's bitter."

Obvious connection, right? Discard pulp just like you rid your draft of excess weight? But when that pulp started spraying and we feared for seconds we had a bum juicer, I was reminded how revision scares and singes like the devil. I was also reminded that we writers can step up with a clinical, mechanical eye and crush what's needed to squeeze out the essence. And that what glitters ain't always worth keeping in the manuscript.

Take my most recent revision of my novel. When I opened the manuscript sent back to me by my agent, Sarah Heller, with line edits, it looked like half of it was gone. Red lines through close to 80 pages told me that no matter how delicious or pretty, what I deemed sophisticated turns of phrase, incandescent imagery, and character-rich spates of dialogue did not advance the story.  "Nothing has happened by page 150," Sarah told me. "Young adults don't give a s*** about this scene, that bit, this part.."

I'm an abuser of the editorial comment. I must be contained, if not squeezed into silence. What was it I was preaching in 2008 about my art of editorializing?

So I opened a new Word doc titled "Excess" (I have one for every manuscript of a short story and as many of these as there are drafts of a novel) and dumped about 75 pages of pulp there.

Pulp includes those "telling" words and phrases--lines I deemed witty that only emphasized a point already made. Sarah showed me how I'd already shown things, that the reader gets it, and momentum slows when the supposed darlings stay. My eyes began to see where whole pages were fluff in the way of people getting the story.

Because this was round three for me with agent edits and draft 20-something since I began the novel in December 2009, I felt confident--more like machine than weak, defensive, and emotional writer. In this equation I have become the juicer and though I'm not as sleek or efficient as a Breville, I could juice out a draft worthy of a next read.

Some passages I couldn't part with and my head found a way to make them advance the story (we hope). If Sarah needs to cross through them a second time, then so be it. What is nutritious is in the eye of the agent and the market. YA wants under 75,000 words; YA wants page-turner; YA wants youth focus, not adult focus. My agent pared away the rind and leaves and stalks that I think make fruit oh so pretty.  Because of teen taste. Because we want to sell this thing.

I also find it interesting that the pulp container sometimes catches whole pieces of apple. Maybe because we didn't buy the Cadillac version out there; maybe because the juicer saw a bad part of apple. Who knows. The point is, I'm not going to be digesting that bit; the wilderness that is our yard will. And that's okay. My stomach is only so big; my eyes might want it all, but reality says, all things in moderation.

After each juicing, the pulp container is FULL. The juice emerges bright green, bright orange. Beautiful.  I drink it, and my evening cravings have disappeared. I'm eating less, yet, eating more.

Writing Prompts

• Are you a writing machine or hopelessly human? Do you cling to your words or do you know how to toss them? Why do you think you cling so hard?
• Find a juicy piece of writing. (Do not go to a first draft.) Recall how you juiced it. What was your secret?
• Research your favorite writer and find out his or her secret for juicing.
• If you struggle desperately with revision, try one or more of these exercises with a draft already in existence. 1) Write a paragraph of 100 words and then insist on it being 50. 2) Leave a draft for three days and return to it with a new name and hat on (for example, if you are a romance writer, you are now Romance Reader Rita who has 'tude and little time; you are Mystery Mike, or Young Adult Yancey, and you have no patience for excess. Read with an evil eye aiming to laser away excess and pitch the story at the first distraction. 3) Meet with an English teacher or a writer you respect, buy them a latte, and ask them to bring a red pen. Suck it up when they cross through more than half your draft.
• Ask yourself these questions to see if you have the support (machine) you need to juice a revision out of your writing: Do you have a log line, a 25-word sentence to sum up your story, one that will highlight which parts of the story are excess? Do you have trustworthy readers who will draw lines through your work? Do you make time to read your work aloud? Do you have files labeled Excess or Beloved Darlings I'll Be With You Again Someday so you can relinquish lines? Do you set word limits that are market standard? Do you try to enter works in contests with word limits? 

Writer's Survival Guide, Part I: Chant, Copy, and Paste Your Way into Confidence

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With the New Year barely launched, our heads full of well-intentioned resolutions, the biggest question is, How do we get 'er started?

I've found and named three ways I stay focused. There are many others, because without a bank of strategies I'd never have made it through 20-some drafts of HOW WENDY REDBIRD DANCING SURVIVED THE DARK AGES OF NOUGHT in the last two years. I wouldn't have believed I could do a third revision for my agent in six months, nor would I welcome more comments if she has them this month. I would have been too worried that writer's block would plague me and prevent any kind of progress.

Here's an annoying admission: I don't let writer's block get me. I despise my writing at times and think it's going nowhere, but that's different than actually stopping. Let me delve into why I keep plodding, because I'm not really sure of all the reasons aside from workaholicism, and hey, the teacher in me wants to understand why others do.

These tactics have kept me solid when I feel my edges blur and my will fade.

1. I chant my mantras. In secular speak, we'll call this an oft-repeated phrase or a motivational pep line. But they're best described as words to invoke when I feel fear. I wake up to fear at 4:00 AM; I feel fear when I'm considering an overhaul of my manuscript; I feel fear when embarking on a new idea for a book. I felt a ton of fear while querying of the I'm not worthy variety.

My mantras lean more to the Hindu version: a "word formula" with mystical resonance and sacred power, repeated during times of spiritual reflection. Some might view this to be a spell; some, a prayer; others, an incantation; I consider it all these things. While I won't share mine, I will tell you it has a calming effect on this writer who has wee-hour or late-night freak-outs. The mantras have evolved into pithier phrases since 2009.

Recently at the Kennedy Center Awards, Yo Yo Ma confessed to being afraid much of the time. As the video montage shared his impressive accomplishments, I respected him all the more for sharing this truth about artistic success--that it is a product of moving through fear, self-loathing, and panic, constantly.

2. I copy and paste models of good writing into my manuscript. When I embark on a scene or section that feels out of my league, I grab something that seems far more professional and copy and paste it into the manuscript. For example, the other day I had to add a newspaper article to my novel, and though I've written some in my day, it isn't my first-choice genre nor is it my area of expertise. This particular article had to be a report on a high school play. So I found a review of Shakespeare's Henry V--done on trapezes, no less--and plunked it right inside my story so it was right in front of my eyes. A review is not a report, but seeing where the writer focused got my engines fired such that I could start typing my own lines. Maybe it's like good company; you feel like this task is now do-able with this demonstration before you. Do as I do...it's as if you're watching a virtual mentor. The model coaches you along.

As an English teacher who's forever preached academic honesty and campaigned against plagiarism, I must pause here to say, Don't get tempted to borrow even two words in a row from another writer. Seriously. English teachers such as me still struggle to communicate the dos and don'ts of plagiarism, but this formula would serve us all well: when you have ten words you wish to paraphrase from another author, make sure five are brand new (your own words, synonyms) and every other word is be re-arranged in a new order. I even paraphrased the definition of mantra you see above, though the content comes from the Free Online Dictionary and most people would say, Copy away. I'm nerdy and precise like that. But it pays off when you're writing. You build writing muscle--I can paraphrase in a heartbeat--because I have a word bank at the ready in my head. I'm constantly seeing new word combinations and syntax isn't an issue when you're writing all the time.

3. I act confident when I don't feel confident. Though I haven't quite graduated to the word "when" (as in, "When this novel is published") and stay stuck on the ifs, I talk with authority about writing to my agent, to my writing group, to colleagues at work, and in my blog. I'm not an expert, but I'm a lifelong learner, and I've invested a lot of sweat in the manuscript and several others. I know my characters, what they would and would not do, so when we discuss these folks, it's like gossiping about the neighbors, and I trust in my own knowledge enough to question other's responses to my characters.

I'd say 90% of the time, I take my writing group's or agent's advice, but sometimes others will offer suggestions that just don't fit. They're good ideas, but they don't suit your manuscript. Comments I've heard about my WIP include change the title, don't have Wendy act in the play, don't have this adult share personal information, don't have this person die here; make Wendy happier earlier on, and so forth. All of these comments are 100% valid for the readers who were commenting; it's what they want to see, and I harbor similarly strong opinions about every book I read. I'm not saying I won't eventually implement some of them. But as long as I am working hard to learn and listen and address the spirit of the feedback (and sometimes that's the challenge for all of us--giving or getting feedback that expresses the concepts, or spirit, of what changes must be made, rather than picayune fixes here or there), I'm headed the right direction.

When I'm telling a certain reader that I appreciate the feedback but I want to stick to my guns on this particular point, I do not feel I'm doing the right thing, necessarily, but I tell myself to trust in my gut even though I would rather make my reader happy. Good authors want the story to have an impact, so hearing that your audience isn't quite moved the way you hoped is important feedback and a heckuva thing to disregard. That said, you have to trust that you see the whole landscape and trajectory of action, plus you know your characters' back story, present story, future story--or you soon will. And you have to live with the changes, not the readers, in a way that is so personal that you must have confidence in yourself when you choose not to change the manuscript.

And from whence comes such confidence? Uh, see Tactic #1. Lather, rinse, repeat!

How's your New Year kicked off? What tactics have kept you at the page? What's your Survival Guide consist of?

Writing Prompts

• Develop a mantra to keep you at the page. Create multiple mantras till you find the one that suits. Will yours be matter-of-fact (listen to your mother) or spiritual? Will it be like a Marine drill sergeant or Yoda? 
• Which writers do you admire, so much so that you've either read one of their works multiple times or actually can recall passages by heart? Find an inspirational passage and keep a hard copy near your work space and also an online copy to move into your manuscript whenever you need it. This can be another kind of mantra.
• When your writer's block is so heavy you can barely lift hand to keyboard, surf online till you find a couple examples of great writing in your genre. Try Google Books, online booksellers, and other  sites that give you samples of writing. Start a library of Models to Emulate, at the ready when you return to the page tomorrow.
• Rewrite a scene from your life--an incident you've survived--where you return to act confident when you did not feel like it. What's your secret now?