Love Thy Editing

writing outside

Say it with me…I

I

love

love

OK, guys. Here’s the toughy…editing.

silence

editing (she repeats in a firm, but encouraging tone)

extreme silence

Alright, writer pals. We’re getting there. Baby steps.

I just so happen to be one of those weirdos who doesn’t mind the editing process. (Notice I still didn’t say love.)

When  it comes to a systematic approach, mega details, and cutthroat decisions devoid of emotion. Well…meet my dark side, folks! The editor.

On a less intense note, I see editing as something to cherish. Because at the end of the day, you just wrote a freaking book.

A novel is no joke, pumpkins.

The love, commitment, and devotion put writing a book on par with the most important people in your life. That book is the buddy you tell all of your secrets to, the lover you think about endlessly, and the spawn of your imagination.

It’s your soul in written form.

Man, oh man. There’s just something magical about seeing your first draft all printed out.

Sure, it looks like shit. But that shit is yours.

Currently, I’m working on my second draft of The Bra Game. In other words, I’m murdering my baby with a cheap red pen.

Now I don’t claim to be an expert, nor am I anything in the vicinity of a bestseller. In fact, I’m a self-taught writer who gets her jollies by bending the rules.

But, I do have three books under my belt, so I’ve learned a thing or two about editing.

Specifically, how to try to love it a little.

editing in the park

  1. Change location  Rather than being chained to your desk with a sad face, take your printed baby outside. Fresh air will do your pasty ass some good.
  2. Check out some resources  As writers, we will forever remain students. Recently, I picked up “Self-Editing for Fiction Writers“. Some parts boosted my confidence, while others slapped me on the wrist. But, it was all good. I learned some shit.
  3. Read it out loud  For the sake of your loved ones, try to do this in private. But, do it. When it comes to the rhythm of your writing, especially dialogue, it is crucial to mouth off.
  4. Sporkforge  Hey, what’d you just call me?! I stumbled across Sporkforge from another writing blog once. It’s ghetto as hell, but it’s a life saver. The word counter/text analyzer is a free online tool that dishes out your repetitious words and phrases. I’m sure there are fancier programs you can buy to do the job. But, Sporkforge is free for us poor indies.
  5. Use caution with find and replace  One time I replaced “purse” with “handbag” throughout my entire fourth draft. Let’s just say, my editors and I had a good laugh over “handbagged her lips” instead of “pursed her lips”. Whoopsy!
  6. Marry it, then divorce it  You will live with this story every day – you will get into spats and you will comfort each other. No matter how much energy you put into it, you will never be satisfied with the finished product. Never. So put your big boy or girl pants on, sign the divorce papers, and go your separate ways.
  7. Pat yourself on the back  You wrote a damn book for crying out loud! Pat yourself real good.

What’s wrong with having dreams, anyway?

Nasher Sculpture Center - Dallas, TX
Nasher Sculpture Center – Dallas, TX

When we’re babies, our parents have dreams of grandeur of what we will become. The doctor, the scientist, the celebrity.

When we’re kids, every adult we encounter asks us what we want to be when we grow up. And we answer them with conviction. A cowboy, a ballerina, an alien.

When we’re teens, our teachers prepare us for the future, to figure out which piece of expensive paper will pave the path to a fruitful career. Teach and be poor or business and be rich? Choose wisely.

When we’re adults – thrown into the world of bills, loans, and other hyped up seriousness – our dreams tend to fade. Usually, they disappear altogether.

Yet, sometimes they are revived. Quite suddenly you’re doing the things you loved most when you were a kid…coming full circle. You play music, you paint, you write.

You’re not the suit, you’re not the boss, you’re not the mom, you’re not the bachelor, you’re not the assistant, you’re not the alcoholic, you’re not the divorcee, you’re not the nobody.

You’re just you. And, you’re effing happy about it.

If you’re one of these dream-chasing adults, you’re often out of place. Everyone’s playing make-believe, the adults on one side and the children on the other.

Playing adult is allowed, respectable even.

Playing child isn’t. As a matter of fact, you’re the troublemaker.

I’ve done the day job thing most of my life. Hell, I’m doing it now…Monday-Friday, 9-5.

I play dress up every day just so I can play the board game. Buy, sell, trade. I was never any good at Monopoly. I liked ridiculously colorful games like Twister and Candyland.

For me, playing with the grown ups is just a game of pretend.

I will always be the rumpled employee who gets ready for work in five minutes flat, the grown ass woman sleeping with a stuffed animal, the hopeless case daring to dream because she can’t live any other way.

And, I don’t know why it’s so strange and unusual. I mean…what’s wrong with having dreams, anyway?

The Permanent Book Sale

Hey friends!

Just dropping a quick note to say I have decided to lower the prices on both of my little books to $2.99…permanently! So happy summer reading to you from your indie author pal, Britt.

Everything's Not Bigger Cover

In the heartland of oil money, Jaye Davis spends her whirlwind existence trapped in the battle fields of high fashion. Surrounded by sparkling ambition and plastic perfection, she reluctantly masquerades as a sales drone at Lyman’s, a luxury store in Dallas. After escaping a turbulent past and leaving everything behind, Jaye struggles to find her place in the world. Armed with a quiet determination, she embarks on a solitary quest, searching for certainty in an uncertain future.

But Jaye Davis isn’t her real name–only a byproduct of the witness protection program. Once her fabricated identity is thrown into jeopardy, she flees to the haunting allure of Prague. Unearthing her roots in an important step toward self-discovery, she learns to surrender to the life she truly deserves.

Watch the Inside Look

Buy on Amazon

Beneath the Satin Gloves Cover

A modern day woman, torn by her illusive dreams, awakens to a strange life in 1943, hurdled against the throes of destruction in wartime Berlin. Following a haphazard trail of clues, she discovers her new identity as Alina Feuer, code-named Sparrow, a famous entertainer, seducing a high-ranking SS officer to gather vital information for the Allies.

But, Alina is an amateur in these incessant spy games, relying solely on her wit and instinct to make her next move while frantically hiding her erratic behavior from the watchful eyes of her suspicious liaison/love interest and her pestering socialite gal pal along the way. A reluctant heroine, she must use charismatic glamour as her weapon of choice to fulfill her deadly mission before the week is through.

Watch the Inside Look

Buy on Amazon

A Bona Fide Blogging (and Social Media) Hiatus

roadkill

Yep, that pile of Yogi roadkill is me.

It was Sunday night, month seven of ten of my Yoga teacher training adventure. Aphrodite the cat humiliated me further by using my carcass as a doormat.

Philosophical exploration is part of the process of becoming a legitimate Yoga teacher.

A question I’ve been secretly asking myself for several months was asked aloud to the entire group of trainees: “What is the purpose of running around?”

It was dead silent.

Tears welled up in my heavy eyes and I choked down the unattractive sob which tried to escape from the depths of my throat.

Just as I suspected…guilty as charged.

When we run around in circles, we don’t get anywhere. No matter how much determination we muster, no matter how fast we go, we stay in the same unfulfilling place.

Ironically, last week I wrote a post called Stop Farting Around. It was meant to be an inspiring post, encouraging the pursuit of dreams.

However, it revealed something jarring to me.

I’m too busy pursuing, drowning in drunken visions of profound splendor. I try to do it all, and the scary thing is…I can pretty much do it.

Am I at peace? Am I satisfied? I think you know what the answers are here.

I need to prioritize my life for a bit. I allowed myself to choose 3 of the most important things…instead of the usual 764.

  • LIFE – I need more of it…my magnificent husband Mr. H, my kooky cats, a great book, staring into space, smelling the roses, sleeping in, savoring a ridiculous meal. I want to bathe in all of it.
  • NOVEL – I’m a novelist first, a blogger second. Those of my fellow writers out there in the same boat know how tricky it is to balance these two wonderful things. I am totally rocking the pants off of my first draft and I shall aim my writerly energy there during my time away.
  • YOGA – I graduate from teacher training mid-June. Thus far the hefty pile of books, my practice and meditation, and the training weekends have been shoved into every remaining crevice of my free time. These final hours will require my full devotion.

As you can see, blogging didn’t make the list. How in the hell could it compete with all that anyway?

Therefore, I’m taking a hiatus. I know it sounds dramatic, but two months isn’t exactly a break.

Blogging is so incredible and I adore you all – my exquisite readers, my resplendent friends, my outstanding supporters. Nonetheless, when enjoyment morphs into stress and creativity evolves into pressure, it’s time to do something about it.

When I first wrote this post, it was quite laughable.

In fact, it was titled a “half-ass” hiatus rather than a bona fide one. I cooked up this whole scheme where I would still figure out a way to post archives and reblog, but then I owned up to the fact that none of that was the real deal.

To take it a step further, I knew something else had to go during the hiatus…social media. Twitter, Facebook, even good ol’ Goodreads.

In order to keep distractions at bay, all blogging related email notifications and all of my handy dandy Iphone apps will be temporarily suspended.

With all this rediscovered free time, who knows what will happen?

Maybe I’ll finish my first draft. Maybe I’ll have some Yoga teaching gigs in the works.

I know one thing…I’ll have more time to cuddle with Mr. H and the cats. And that, more than anything, is a reason to be ridiculously excited.

I get it. From a marketing standpoint, I’m doing this all wrong. I should have scheduled posts ahead of time and I should have lined up guest bloggers – yada, yada, yada.

Hell, I’m even celebrating my one year blogiversary during the hiatus! I should just wait, and do this later…yeah, that’s a cop-out, too.

From a life standpoint I’m doing this all right, trying something completely out of character. I’m slowing down.

And so the two month countdown begins. See, I even have a countdown thingamajig on the sidebar now.

I will still be around this weekend to reply to comments, share status updates on FB and Twitter, and catch up on some blog reading.

As of Monday, April 22nd, Britt’s going dark for two whole months.

I will do my best to respond to any comments made during the hiatus upon my return in June.

For those bloggers I follow religiously, please know that I will still be reading from my email but will not participate with my usual liking and commenting during the hiatus. I’ll be like one of those silky web stalkers we never hear from, but always seem to know what we’re up to. (Mwah, ha, ha!)

I am going to miss everyone here like crazy. Feel free to shoot me an email via the contact form and say hello.

Thank you all for your continued loveliness. I’ll see you soon.

With much, much love. – Britt