As of late, I've been dipping my pen into more of a freelancing ink. I've found it surprisingly satisfying, in particular when praised for the piece. Dare I say I may get nearly as much satisfaction writing an article or review than I do writing a story.
Both of them include what I call the “puzzle process.” The puzzle process is the tightening of the story, making sure each word fits properly and the sentences flow like honey…or if you prefer a different simile you can insert that right here.
Both of them include what I call the “puzzle process.” The puzzle process is the tightening of the story, making sure each word fits properly and the sentences flow like honey…or if you prefer a different simile you can insert that right here.
Imagine a rough draft as dumping an entire jigsaw puzzle onto a blank white surface. Judging from many of the pieces and their colors, you get the idea of what’s being formed, but then you grab the edge pieces and build the foundation—the structure that all other pieces will adhere to.
Once the rough draft is done then comes rearranging and fitting the pieces ever so snugly, which often involves tearing out those little chunks that look good but they just don’t belong, or as William Faulkner so brutally puts it, you must “kill your darlings.” That part can be pretty painful; that eloquent prose that comes straight from the heart and nearly jumps out in full color right there on the paper (or Word document). Kill it. It doesn’t belong. Ouch!
Once the rough draft is done then comes rearranging and fitting the pieces ever so snugly, which often involves tearing out those little chunks that look good but they just don’t belong, or as William Faulkner so brutally puts it, you must “kill your darlings.” That part can be pretty painful; that eloquent prose that comes straight from the heart and nearly jumps out in full color right there on the paper (or Word document). Kill it. It doesn’t belong. Ouch!
After a story or article is published, I can barely bring myself to read it again for fear of finding something I wish I could change but it being too late. I feel like the piece of work is never really finished. Like an artist with his painting, there is always something he could change; add some dark or light values here or there. However, there does come a time, at the end of the puzzle process, when I feel all is tightened, the honey is flowing, every piece fits securely and permanently, and I just sit back and revel in the work with a smile.
When I save the final draft, push in the chair, and walk away, I have to be careful not to look down. I just know I’ll find a missing piece lying right there on the floor next to my desk.
When I save the final draft, push in the chair, and walk away, I have to be careful not to look down. I just know I’ll find a missing piece lying right there on the floor next to my desk.
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