Whittling it Down: What to do When a Manuscript is Too Long

As usual, my thoughts about the writing process might also be relevant to living.

Case in point: What to do when a manuscript is too long (or a life is too cluttered)?

Answer: Whittle it down.

(These comments will be about writing; you decide how to apply them to your life.)

I recently got a manuscript to edit that was a whopping 141,000 words. The writer obviously had a lot to say. But, sadly, too much to say. An agent or a publisher would not be impressed.

Publishing is a business and most of us are unknowns with no book sales track record. Some 170,000 books are published every year in the U.S. alone (more in the U.K.). That comes to about 475 books a DAY. Many (if not most) don’t earn back the money a publisher spends to produce them. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely a publisher will agree to buy a bloated manuscript because its prospects of making money are too uncertain – but the certainty it will LOSE money goes up the longer the book.

Your goal should be to trim your manuscript to about 75,000 words. This doesn’t necessarily mean that what you cut will go onto the scrap heap. This is because publishers, if they like a manuscript (and the author), will want to know if you have any more stories up your sleeve. You’ll be able to say, “Why, yes. I do!”

Remember: This is a business.

My novel "Fast Track" went through 14 major revisions. At one point, it was a 150,000-word mishmash. One publisher rejected it because it didn't fit into an easily identifiable niche - it wasn't literary, it wasn't a romance, it wasn't a mystery. He said he didn't know how to market it.

So, I took the manuscript to the book review club that met in my neighborhood. They read the story and then let me sit in on their critique. By listening to their comments, I realized I had three subplots I could easily jettison. That was the tipping point. I whittled it down to a lean 75,000 word-mystery that netted me an agent and a publisher -- and some very enthusiastic readers.

Whittling really can pay off. See for yourself on Amazon:

Dealing with Criticism: Some Suggestions

These are comments I made recently to a woman after I edited her manuscript. But I believe they could apply to life, as well:

A lot of my criticisms are my subjective reactions to what you've written. If I make a suggestion, it's only that: a suggestion. You are totally free to accept it, reject it, or come up with something entirely different.

-go through the comments and let them ruminate

-make decisions on how you plan to rework, revise, and rewrite.

-start making your changes

-TAKE YOUR TIME. Part of you will be impatient to give birth to your masterpiece, but as all good moms know, letting nature take its course is the wiser way. If you've been with the project for a long time (9 months or even 9+ years), it's only natural to want get it over with, but don't rush the creative process.

-Once you're done rewriting, find people who - because they love you - are willing to read the manuscript at no charge and give you their honest feedback. It probably won't be as nitpicky as a professional editor's, but - if it's HONEST - it'll help you know where the story is good and where it still needs reworking.

Writing a manuscript is like living life: We are all works in progress.

You Should Write a Book

Most writers are motivated to write because of things that have happened to them. And the first instinct is to write it as a non-fiction autobiography because the experiences are so vivid and personally profound. Often, well-meaning friends who've heard you recount portions of the story exclaim, "You should write a book!"

But they don't realize just how hard that actually is.

One reason it's harder than most people think is that if you're writing non-fiction, your editor will need to know more of the facts and context of any given story than you - from your narrow and limited point of view - actually know. So, as you try to write FACTUALLY, you'll discover that you don't know nearly as many facts as you thought you did.

Of course you can set out to find those missing details, but, as a journalist, I can tell you that the process is time-consuming, expensive, and fraught with all kinds of difficulties. And perhaps the biggest difficulty is that if you're writing things that are unflattering about a person, you could get sued for defamation of character. Even though what you're writing is true, if the person's not a public figure, you could lose a lot of money defending yourself in court.

It ain't worth it.

Not only that, but, publishers are less likely to want to make your story into a book because you're not well known, making it harder for them to sell the story of a nobody to the general public. Publishing is, after all, a business.

So.......?

Here's what I suggest:

Use those personal stories as a way to inspire your imagination. Change some of the details of the events and characters so that the real people won't recognize themselves, then build a story that still conveys the deeper "truth" you want to communicate. If you have a vivid imagination you'd be on firmer ground going in that direction. That's because you get to "dream up" the facts, something an editor of non-fiction won't let you get away with.

That's how I dreamed up my first novel "Fast Track." The book got its start because of two traumatic experiences in my life: a car/train collision I witnessed as a kid, and my sister's suicide. But, instead of recounting what happened in the style of a just-the-facts-ma'am journalist, I made up an entirely different story - a mystery/thriller - that still highlights themes and truths surrounding sudden death and suicide. I used my imagination to create a story that would resonate with people who don't know anything about me personally.

If you're able to camouflage the true events that happened to you and create a compelling story that still conveys a deeper "truth," you may be able to write not just one book, but ten, simply by using what happened to you as your creative muse.

Ever Feel Inadequate? Some Thoughts on Writing - and Living

A woman sent me an email recently telling me she has a "yearning" to write, but wonders if she can really sit down and write a book. She asked, "Did you ever wonder if you could really do it?"

The short answer is, "yes." Here's my longer response to her - and if you substitute the word "living" for "writing," my comments might be relevant to you even if you're not a writer:

Yearning and self-doubt are both essential elements in the process. The yearning propels you to the keyboard; the doubts cause you to stare stupidly at it. The yearning is necessary; the doubts are inevitable.

At some point, it's probably valuable to look more deeply at yourself and ask why you have doubts. Chances are, your answer will revolve around these two inadequacies: I'm not smart enough and I'm not good enough. (Apologies to Stuart Smalley)

The first one -- not smart enough -- is probably true. I don't have to look very far to find someone smarter than me. But I know I'm smarter than some people, too. I am who I am.

My mom, who was a third grade teacher, refused to tell me my IQ even though she knew. "You're above average," is all that she'd say. She explained that if she told me it was high, I'd coast through life and wouldn't try very hard; if she told me it was low, I'd give up and wouldn't try, either. She always used to say, "It's not the IQ, but the 'I will.'" Throughout her career she saw kids who were oblivious to their low IQ thrive because they worked hard and tried.

As for not good enough - that's true, too. But that doesn't mean that you can't improve. First you try, then you look critically at the result to see where you need improvement.

Writing [living] is a process. The more we do it, the more knowledgeable and skillful we become. WHATEVER you write won't be perfect, but instead of being paralyzed by fear of failure, put all that yearning and doubting into motion. As you try to do your best, your "best" will steadily get better.

Hope that helps.

Just a reminder: I'll be speaking and leading some writing workshops this Friday and Saturday (April 23 and 24) at the Writers' Institute at the University of Wisconsin - Madison

Change is Good

Not long ago, one of my writing students came to me, vexed because she was making so many changes to the story she was writing. Even though my response was tailored to writing, it applies to life, too.

Here's what I told her:

Change is a good thing. Get used to the idea of change because you will be making a LOT of changes throughout the novel-writing process.

Some changes will be huge and fundamental; others will be minor tweaks, but in almost every case, you will be changing your story and your manuscript for the better.

Why?

Because the act of writing puts your thinking down in an objectively observable form. Until you write it out, the ideas are merely elusive and ethereal images in your head. Often, it's only when you read what you've written that you can identify sloppy thinking, poor logic, or other problems.

Look at it this way: Writing is clearing your head; reading what you've written is the act of assessing if what was in your head was as good as you'd originally thought. More often than not, it isn't.

Look critically at what you write. By doing so, you'll often find ways to make it even better. DON'T FEEL AS IF IT HAS TO BE "RIGHT" THE FIRST TIME. FIRST DRAFTS SUCK. SO DO FIFTH DRAFTS.

So, take heart. You're a long way from having your manuscript [or your life] be what it should or will be. You're at the stage where you're putting a slab of unformed clay on the potter's wheel. The clay blob will only turn into a work-of-art as you form it and mold it as the wheel spins.

It's a process. You're at the very beginning. There's still a lot of creative fun ahead.

Are you having fun yet??

1959 Fatal Crash Leads to Novel

On the night of December 20, 1959 – fifty years ago today -- I was sitting in the left front seat of the Vista-Dome car of the Burlington Zephyr passenger train as it hurtled through northern Illinois on its way from Chicago toward my hometown of La Crosse, Wisconsin.

The engineer would later tell a coroner’s jury that he was going 90 miles an hour (legal at the time) as we rounded a gentle curve at the tiny town of Chadwick.

From my vantage point in the darkened dome car near the front of the train, I could see the locomotive’s searchlight slice through the darkness, sweeping the tracks that stretched ahead of us. Suddenly, off to my left, I saw a car speeding toward a crossing we were approaching. The car looked like a 1949 Chevy, distinctive because of its sloped rear end. A split second later, I lost sight of the car as it went in front of the train.

I heard a bang, the train shuddered, and debris rained onto the Plexiglas dome, cracking the window I’d been peering through. I ducked, then scrambled down the narrow stairway to the dome car’s lower level where I told my dad and the conductor what I’d just witnessed.

I was nine years old.

Eventually, the train came to a stop at least a mile down the tracks. My dad got off to investigate, but I didn’t want to see the carnage, so I stayed behind, shivering in a frigid vestibule and looking out the open door as Dad made his way to the front of the train.

An ambulance silently passed by, red lights flashing, a shrouded figure stretched out in back. I would meet the ambulance driver, Bob Helms, years later at a book signing in Chadwick. Tears welled in his eyes as he told me about that night in 1959 when he helped retrieve the mangled bodies of the three people whose lives ended so suddenly and brutally.

The crash killed Eugene Kutzke, 22; his wife Ellen, 17; and her brother, Raymond Stage, 11 – all of Freeport, Illinois. Earlier in the day, they’d been in Dubuque, Iowa and were returning to Freeport in a borrowed car.

I remember being particularly troubled that a boy about my age was among the victims.

The coroner’s jury ruled the crash an accident. The car came from the West and made a sharp left turn just before the grade crossing. Several buildings on the right side of the car would have obscured the driver’s view of the tracks, which crossed the road at a slightly oblique angle. The speeding train was coming from the right. Even if the driver saw the train – which I doubt -- he wouldn’t have had time to react.

After my dad returned from his foray to the front of the train, we went to the club car and sat with several other people who listened as we recounted our stories. A woman told me she lived nearby and would send me a newspaper clipping with details of the crash. Thirty-five years later, it still hadn’t arrived.

Fast forward to about 1994. I was doing a writing exercise recounting a personal experience – the one you’ve just read. As I wrote, I remembered a radio news report about a car-train collision in which an infant survived. I began wondering what if an infant had survived the crash I’d witnessed and grew up wondering about her past. That idea turned into my mystery-suspense novel “Fast Track.”

The novel isn’t about the accident. If anything, it’s an example of how a personal experience can be the seed of an idea that can blossom into something else – something redeeming.

The book begins with my 25-year-old heroine vexed because she doesn’t know what to do with her life. She discovers the body of the aunt who raised her from infancy – a victim of carbon monoxide poisoning. (This is an echo of my sister’s suicide in 1980 – but that’s another story for another time.) That trauma begins a quest to unlock secrets kept hidden for a quarter century when her parents died in a mysterious car-train collision.

The manuscript went through 14 major revisions over 10 years before I found my current agent, Barbara Casey, (the 39^th agent I queried). During that process, I drew on other personal experiences to add texture to a story that includes politics, journalism, and mentoring relationships.

But it all started 50 years ago today in Chadwick, Illinois. So, I suppose it’s fitting that I named my heroine Lark Chadwick.

***

John DeDakis is a Senior Copy Editor on CNN’s “The Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer” and the author of the mystery-suspense novel “Fast Track.”

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/159507094X/ref=olp_product_details?ie=UTF8&me=&seller=

So, You Have to Give a Speech?

Some suggestions on how to gain confidence in front of a crowd:

1. It's NOT about YOU, it's about THEM. In other words, they came to hear about your book. You know more about it than they do, so put yourself in their head and try to speak to their need. (In this case, their need is to know more about you.)

2. Whether it's a large crowd, or only a few people, make your talk personal. Talk to them as if you're talking to just one person. It can either be a person who seems to be looking at you attentively, or it can be a friend who's not there, but is in your mind's eye.

3. Just be you. No need to be pretentious. Have an idea of what you want to say, but don't read them a speech. Instead, speak from your heart and in your own words. Think of it as a conversation.

4. It's a two-way street. Once you've said what you wanted to say, then take questions. That way, you'll know what THEY (remember, it's about THEM, not you) are interested in. Keep your answers short and then ask, "did that help?" That gives the person a chance to ask a follow-up to seek better clarification.

5. You might consider checking to see if there's a Toastmaster's club in your area. It's a great way to get experience as a public speaker, and get helpful feedback on your speaking style.

I'll stop there. I could probably go on. Bottom line: once you realize you actually have something to say, then you can relax and just say it and not worry about what people think about you because you can't control that. All YOU can control is your message and your delivery. You're just talking with someone. You do it every day. Only this time, a few extra people will be eavesdropping.

Final thought: HAVE FUN WITH IT.