Ripping Off the Bandage

This post is the one that resembles both dabbing at the wound with disinfectant as well as ripping off the bandage.

Neither process is pleasant, but both are necessary.

When you are ready to finalize your written or formal verbal communication, you need someone who is equal parts ruthless and blunt, even if not always a help in the most global sense.

Yes, that fearsome, loud, and uninhibited voice inside you, is, dear reader(s)(I am always hopeful that more than one of you is reading these posts) is YOUR EDITOR.

Don’t cover your ears, even though last time, I negatively characterized the logical part of your writing mind; I said, “that editor’s a killer”.

How do you use that challenging voice inside you? Allow him or her (remember, editing knows no sex) to do what it does best, by doing for the editor what you do for your listeners and readers: putting the editor in a position to do what it does best, what it is meant to do.

What is the process your internal editor is best equipped to do?

Your internal editor does its best work when ELIMINATING THINGS YOU DON’T NEED.

What does that reality mean for your writing process? It means that you put off editing until the very end, when you are absolutely certain that you have EVERY IDEA somehow expressed in your words, and the only thing left to do is make sure you have expressed those ideas as clearly as you can.

Think of your editor as someone helping you move from one home to another. But, remember, this packer is always someone who took a dim view of all your belongings; as a result of this packer’s contempt for your possessions, you invite him or her in at the very last minute, when you are sure what you are bringing, but you are not sure how to fit all those things into whatever vehicle you are using for transport. Your editor is vigorous, energetic, and always sure of things, so put him or her in charge of putting stuff into the vehicle.

Where does elmination come in? Well, for example, you want to “fit an idea” into a sentence. You know you need the idea, but you call it “very unique”. Items are “unique”, because they are one of a kind. If you add the word “very” to “unique”, you are attempting to add a degree of “uniqueness” that doesn’t help explain anything to your listener or reader.

Or, to put my point in blunt editorial terms: the word “very” doesn’t add value in this case.

The notion of “adding value” is the bottom line any time your editor forces you to question the inclusion of something. That bias on the part of the editor reinforces my point that you have to make your process of “inclusion” a final act, because you don’t want the criterion of adding value utilized to judge an idea’s inclusion, just a word or phrase’s inclusion.

As I said in an earlier post, you also utilize the editor best when you limit each “pass” or “review” of a speech or document to eliminate something, such as unnecessary words; noun verb disagreements (using a plural verb with a singular noun); using inconsistent tenses; getting rid of curt sentences that hurt flow or excessively long ones (where a subject stated in the first part of the sentence might be lost; and eliminating the passive voice (unless, as I’ve stated in a previous post, you don’t want to show clearly who is responsible or was responsible for a particular action).

Remember one last thing: as you do each edit pass, read aloud. You would be amazed at what items the ear catches, but the eye does not.

If you try to do too many things in a particular view, you are empowering the editor to now become that mover who is telling you to throw things out and not move them rather than how best to pack them in the moving vehicle. We don’t want that, do we? Of course not! When we move into our new home, we are the best judge of what we need there. We just may not know how to get it there in one trip.

Stay tuned.

HUMOR ME

I just realized that I may have left some of you behind when writing these last posts on “composing”, following the time-tested and sweet symbolism of Vermont sugaring.

What did I leave out?

Well, despite the huge numbers of bloggers out there and people with things to say of all kinds, in all kinds of forums, other aspirants lead lives of quiet desperation in terms of self-expression, because they either believe they are not “creative”, or “they have nothing to say”.

If you blog, obviously, you’ve gotten past such obstacles. If you don’t blog, and/or you haven’t moved past these significant misgivings about yourself, in other words, if you don’t think you have artistic ability, creativity, and talent in self-expression (related challenging inhibitions involve carrying a tune), then you are going to cheat yourself out of manifesting your best potential when reading or writing.

Just humor me when I tell you that you may have more imagination as an “imagist” than you think.

Okay, now try this…imagine that you are trying to compose some ideas about writing. Write down the word “pencil”. Quick, don’t think, just write down the next association that comes into your mind.

Here’s what I wrote: pencil…drama…kerchief…melody.

Wait, turn off that left brain editor, I can hear he or she (inhibition knows no sex) saying, “Stop…those connections are illogical!”; when it comes to setting out sheer creative raw material, that editor’s a killer.

When the pencil writes,
Drama and a melody
Can weave a kerchief.

Nice little haiku, just a small, subtle, but significant clue as to how ready (and probably underutilized) your right brain, your creative part, is.

I won’t argue with your needlessly vague but self-denigrating preconception that you aren’t creative; all I’ll do is tell you that you and everyone else can free-associate.

Try it, you’ll like it, and you’ll find images you didn’t know you had.

Stay tuned.