Today, during an interview, I was asked to read from SPARK. I hadn’t revisited the text for a while other than to fact-check myself. As I read, I found myself distracted by thinking simultaneously about how I’d rephrase a sentence or two if I were writing/revising the text now. That’s the danger of reading your own work.
I’m currently working on revisions for Book 2: Fire. I’ve got a new editor assigned to me for this manuscript. Rachel and I are still early in our writer/editor relationship, and I think she’s being a bit too nice to me. I’m routinely dense and occasionally need a stronger message to understand what she’s really thinking. Here’s one I understood immediately:
“The story arc between XXXX and AAAA ends too quickly and easily. Either extend it and give the reader more or delete it entirely.”
Extend or delete. Can we not find some middle ground?
To be fair, Rachel didn’t say how much it needed to be extended. I can’t delete it, because it contains some critical backstory for something that happens in Book 3. So, it looks like I’ll be extending that storyline somewhat. That’s okay because I enjoyed writing that piece. That’s also dangerous ground.
Samuel Johnson, who died a long time ago, said something I need to remember: “Read over your compositions and, when you meet a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.”
One of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, advised:
“The best advice I can give on this is, once it’s done, to put it away until you can read it with new eyes. Finish the short story, print it out, then put it in a drawer and write other things. When you’re ready, pick it up and read it, as if you’ve never read it before. If there are things you aren’t satisfied with as a reader, go in and fix them as a writer: that’s revision.”
I’ll probably add 10,000. Then, to make it tolerable, I’ll cut 12,000 or more.
Currently reading: In Sunshine or in Shadow. I’m not really a poetry reader yet this one has caught my attention. There’s some poignancy that’s resonated with me and some self-effacing humor laced with surprising honesty. I’m about 1/3 of the way through and will do a full review when I finish.
Currently watching: Star Trek – Strange New Worlds. We’re enjoying this. It takes place a decade or so before Star Trek, the original series. Good job on the casting even if some characters still seem to be finding their feet.
Currently pondering: Life is too short to read bad books. I bought some books earlier this summer and promised the authors that I’d read and review them. I’ve abandoned two so far. I don’t think I’ll go back to them. It means failing to live up to a promise, and that bothers me. Some friends, including writers, have advised me that if I can’t give a book four or five stars, then I shouldn’t review it. That would equate to an eight or better on the Feral Scale. I decided to go as low as a seven.
What do you think? Go for the review, even if it’s just two or three stars?
That’s a question I’m pondering as I get ready to send out my debut novel. I don’t trust books that have too many 5 star reviews, because I’ve read very few perfect books. But I worry people would be upset at a lower review. I don’t see anything wrong with a 3 or 4 if you explain why in the review, because someone else might find your reasons nitpicky and decide to buy it anyway. I remember Siskel and Ebert used to argue over whether great special effects made up for a thin plot. One was fine with that and the other wasn’t. I’m interested to hear what others think.
At some point, there are bound to be haters. I’ll always explain my thoughts that drove a lower rating. On the other hand, if someone only has four reviews and they’re all five stars, I don’t want to tank their overall rating with a two.
I’m looking forward to seeing your book on the market!
Honesty is the best policy. Just don’t be a duck.
Hah! Trying to avoid that. Also trying to remember that “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Is silence better than telling someone that their book is terrible?