All About the Story

We just had our first snow. It was a little late this year, but it was worth the wait. It was mostly melted the next day, but it was a thick white blanket while it lasted and there is nothing quite like watching the snow fall. The cats agree. It is also the perfect setting for editing.

Whatever I do, be it a poem, a short story, a novel, even a song, it is all about the story. What is the point of writing something if it doesn't say something? Words are meant to be read or said, but stories are meant to be told. And every story I tell is, at least in a small way, a part of my own.

That is why editing is so hard. I wrote peices of my soul onto the page. Every word means something to me as person, not just as an author. So, cutting part of that out feels....odd. Clarifying what I meant, explaining details, bridging gaps, and so many other things are part of the editing process, but I do not find them particularly difficult. Frustrating, yes; monotonous, absolutely; complicated, they certainly have their moments, but they are not really hard. Changing the fabric of the story, however, is a skill I am still working on. It may not be an essential part to the plot or even the theme, but it was a critical part of my creative process and, as such, is a part of who I have become. On the flipside, however, the story isn't really about me, and I know how frustrating it is to have pointless, rambling chapters that feel like the author went on some obscure tangent that does not further the story in any way. And it is all about the story.

The first time I drafted this particular book, I was a teenager, trying my best to develop a world worth escaping too. My favorite stories took place in fantasic and magical places that only resembled my own in the relationships and underlying struggles of the characters. I wanted to do the same thing, both for myself and others. All in all, I laid a solid groundwork and it was my longest work to date. It wasn't ready, however, despite how badly I wanted it to be. Years later, reading the book of another author (while settled in the bath with either ice cream or a refreshing beverage), I was reminded of that story. So, I pulled up a copy on my tablet (don't worry, I keep them in a clear plastic zipper bag when bathing) and dove in. Needless to say, it needed work. A loooottt of work. Yet, I could see the potential.

The only thing I kept was the framework. Characters, circumstances, major plot points all changed. I read bits and peices to my fiance as I wrote and, by the time I finished the rewrite, he had been my husband for nearly two years. It was a long labor of love, fit in among volunteering, working, and lifeing. Then, I bought a binder, printed it off because some things are still easier on paper, and began the editing process.

That is where I am now, and I had forgotten how dreadfully boring it could be. I take it in small doses so I can stay focused and vigilant on making the story itself better. It is all about the story after all. I will keep working and I will keep learning and, eventually, I will be able to tell this story to the world. This story and, God willing, many many more.