Dear Novelist: To Edit or not to Edit by WoodscourtBooks, literature
Literature
Dear Novelist: To Edit or not to Edit
DEAR NOVELIST
To Edit Or Not To Edit
(or when to lock the inner editor in a dungeon guarded by a fire-breathing dragon).
Dear Novelist,
You are reading this either because:
a) You are a writer on a quest to improve your craft,
b) You want to see what another writer says on this particular subject, or
c) You are bored.
If the first, I pray you find some use in this little guide. If the second, treat me kindly, I beg you. If the last, I suggest you find some better way in future to spend your wayward hours (like, maybe write a novel).
If there is a major pitfall common among novelists, no matter our genre, it is our inner editor.
Dear Letter,
With a smile, I recall the first time I ever used your form to speak with a fellow human being. How painstakingly I drew each alphabet character in that number 2 pencil and twice left a smudge on the blue-lined paper as I erased a misspelled word. How proud I was to show my mother the results of my labor, then teared up when she found more words I couldn't spell. How she smiled as she pulled a fresh slip of paper from a notebook and had me write you anew. Tongue pressed between my lips, I tried again. The letters were wobbly, but they were legible. How handsome you appeared to my child eyes!
I remember oh-so-carefully folding y
How I overcome writer's block. by WoodscourtBooks, literature
Literature
How I overcome writer's block.
I'm by no means an authority on writing, but I do have eight unpublished novels under my belt. I hope that in sharing some of the lessons I've learned along the way, others might dodge a few literary hurdles. I don't believe all writers write alike, so I don't expect that my own approach to prose will work for everyone. Maybe not anyone. But if you glean something from my experiences, I'm glad to help.
How I overcome writer's block.
Writer's block. The dread curse of the literary world. It happens to everyone. Often, the darn thing settles like a boulder in our already precarious path and doesn't budge for days or weeks or maybe even years
Give me a sunset
and burbling streams,
the lowing of cattle
and a midsummer's dream.
With acres of clover
a sky full of stars,
the twitter of birds
and an evening that's ours.
A walk in the country,
a breath of fresh air,
A morning of dewdrops --
Yes, please send me there.
I want to go back
to the fields of my youth,
when all the world spoke
in unfettered truth.