I always wanted to write a novel, so, maybe a year or two ago I took a novella-length short
story I’d written a while before and made it longer.
That is, I edited it with the sole goal of making it longer. (Dear Past Self, think next time.) My story already had a nonsensical plot and a protagonist who was out of character so much of the time she didn’t even have a character, but the editing made it much more rambling and undigestible. When I realized how bad it was, I thought maybe I could fix it by touching up a few of the main scenes.
Um... Nope.
I cut it down to from 33,000 to 17,000 words. I took out tons: for example, the gratuitous identical twins I had put in because, hey, identical twins are cool! It was a lot of work. I was proud of myself.
It still didn’t make any sense.
I did a complete rewrite that forced the story into an actual plot.
The actual plot was driven by a cliched bully with no motives.
I put the darn thing away for a few months. Then, a couple weeks ago, I cut it up and put it back together. It seemed to work.
Last week at an (awesome) writing class, we discussed cliches. I went back home and realized that the story has lots of cliches: The Successful Nerd. The Bully Who Always Gets Away With It. The Ethnic Token Character! Errgh.
I’m putting it in the dumpster... for something like the fifth time.
But, I’ve learned from my mistakes. For one thing, the longest thing you’ve written is not necessarily the most important, and for another, some stories have no future to look forward to, but you have to write them, anyway.
(I’m still proud of myself for cutting all that verbiage.)
That is, I edited it with the sole goal of making it longer. (Dear Past Self, think next time.) My story already had a nonsensical plot and a protagonist who was out of character so much of the time she didn’t even have a character, but the editing made it much more rambling and undigestible. When I realized how bad it was, I thought maybe I could fix it by touching up a few of the main scenes.
Um... Nope.
I cut it down to from 33,000 to 17,000 words. I took out tons: for example, the gratuitous identical twins I had put in because, hey, identical twins are cool! It was a lot of work. I was proud of myself.
It still didn’t make any sense.
I did a complete rewrite that forced the story into an actual plot.
The actual plot was driven by a cliched bully with no motives.
I put the darn thing away for a few months. Then, a couple weeks ago, I cut it up and put it back together. It seemed to work.
Last week at an (awesome) writing class, we discussed cliches. I went back home and realized that the story has lots of cliches: The Successful Nerd. The Bully Who Always Gets Away With It. The Ethnic Token Character! Errgh.
I’m putting it in the dumpster... for something like the fifth time.
But, I’ve learned from my mistakes. For one thing, the longest thing you’ve written is not necessarily the most important, and for another, some stories have no future to look forward to, but you have to write them, anyway.
(I’m still proud of myself for cutting all that verbiage.)
