Well, after that binding statement I made yesterday about finishing the ol' trilogy by Christmas, I made huge strides in my editing. I plowed through 30+ pages last night, trimming and tweaking, hacking and grafting. I'm extremely pleased with the results thus far. I think it reads better than ever, and I don't think I'll have heart palpitations when it comes time to query an agent.
I think this will be my best work, and I won't feel whonky sending out this finished product.
Yes. It's that much better.
And, once again, it's thanks in large part to my beloved sister. She's such an incredibly good example in so many ways. In this case, she proved to me that nothing is sacred, and that has unleashed a good portion of my innate editing ruthlessness on my own work.
You see, I felt the first draft of her first novel was sacrosanct. It should not be touched, other than to correct typos. It was beautiful in every way and should have immediately been published. *grin* I still feel that way.
So, imagine my dismay when she basically said, "I can do better" and tore it apart, rewriting it from the beginning.
NOOO! I wailed against the unfairness of it all. The story was beautiful! It was thrilling and gripping and sweet and dangerous and perfect in every way! Why tamper with perfection?
But, after reading a single chapter of the new, improved version, I bit my tongue and learned a lesson.
Yes, the story was beautiful and all those lovely adjectives I used before. Now, however, it was BETTER. Impossible, you say? Not so. Her new version is simply better. I didn't believe it before I read it, but I can't ignore what's right in front of me. It's not in my nature.
So, the lesson learned, I looked at my own work. My spirit quailed within me. Did I need to completely rewrite, too? I love my characters! Had I done them a disservice? Why even bother if, when I finished the rewrite, I might need to do yet another?
Oh, the despair! Oh, the weeping and wailing!
Oh, the melodrama.
Wading steadily into this cruelly deep edit, I can categorically say I am NOT rewriting, nor is such an all-encompassing upheaval necessary. My story is in a different genre from hers, so I have more lenience with some things than she does. Plus, thanks to my naturally smart mouth and my bizarre tendency to write like I talk, the story is damn funny, and it'll never be wholly serious, so I can get away with a little more, there.
It still needs a lot of work, of course, but that's okay. The original product is no longer sacred.
I can simply cut out a sentence, a paragraph, an entire page without thinking I'm losing something holy. I can add to what's there to better describe, to better show what's happening around my characters. I can do them and their story justice now without worrying about destroying the purity of the text.
Purity, schmurity.
If a complete rewrite does my sister's heart and manuscript that much good, a hard tweaking can only do the same, even if it changes the subtle flow of the story I've told. Even if it makes some of those aforementioned smart-ass comments a little more serious or a serious comment a little more tongue-in-cheek.
So, the second draft is coming along nicely, and all thanks to the knowledge that nothing is absolute. The story is already written (except for most of Book 3, of course), but it's not set in stone. I will polish it until it shines, and when it sparkles so brightly it's almost blinding, I'll show it proudly to an agent and see what happens.
Mayhap I'll show it to a dozen agents, a score of agents, a HUNDRED agents before finding one who thinks he/she can sell that shine, but I won't be so damn wussy about sending it off to them. I'm disgusted with my cowardice, and I'm done with it. I will find my balls, wherever they ran off to, and remember that, while I am no warrior, I can at least behave like one.
After all, what's the worst they can say? No? It sucks? What the hell were you thinking, you pathetic idiot? *shrug*
Bring it on.
I had an older brother, and he said worse before he got out of bed in the morning! I can take it.