So said the mystic sage Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars: A New Hope (1977).
This applies to your writing just as much as any real-life situation. In real life, your instincts can either save you from a bad situation or encourage you to take a leap of faith.
When it comes to your writing, only you as the writer can know if a particular scene needs to stay, even if you aren’t able to articulate why. Trusting that scene’s place in your story is very important. Your job as a writer, then, is to find and tease out the threads that will ultimately reward that instinct and faith.
Sometimes, those reasons will come up easily. Many times, it will require walking away from the project for awhile, allowing it to percolate in the back of your mind. And other times, it may require a creative project in a different medium to distract that focus long enough to allow the ideas to flow through you.
Once you find those little connections between that scene and the rest of your story, it’s just a matter of threading them into the body of your work. It will be time-consuming and more often than not a little frustrating, but the end result will be worth it.
The above statement (and title of this post) is the most succinct and to the point sentence that Polonius utters during a long-winded speech to King Claudius in the play, Hamlet. Whether it’s a novel, a short story, a blog post, or even an author biography for your website, a good editor will help to keep your work tight and effective.
So, keeping that in mind, I’ll be brief.
The first draft is to just write – to tell yourself the story, have fun and get everything you want to say out. This is where you get be extravagant with words, to be as playful and as wordy as you want as you explore what you want to tell.
The second draft is to shape the piece so that it aligns with your vision. Sometimes this means adding new pieces or moving existing ones around until they fit.
The third draft (and every draft thereafter) is to hone it down to its bare essence, so that what you want to say comes through succinctly. This is where you simplify your language to invite your readers in.
In short, murder your darlings, dear writer. Cut the excessive wordage out and simplify.
I love working with writers who are passionate about their creative lives and want to dig deeper to unearth their voice through the richness of their work.
What I’m creating here is for you and you, alone, dear Writer. The goal is for you to be bold and fierce with the story that wants – NEEDS – to be told, to stand in your power against any and all advice that goes against your instincts and to ignore trends that change on a whim. What we are about to do is go on an adventure to listen to your muse and unearth your voice.
How will this occur? By shaking up your writing – to that, I will be offering you a sanctuary, where you can feel safe to express yourself. Remember, in the arts, there are no wrong answers, no wrong choices. There is only a wealth of very interesting detours and where they might lead is anyone’s guess.
There will be posts here on this blog, one-on-one editing sessions for when you’re ready to take that leap of faith, and, eventually, on my Patreon site and through podcasts.
I love engaging with you, Dear Client, about your work and I will especially love being able to assist you in finding the tools you need to find your own way, in the manner that suits your own needs.
Sometimes, the hardest part about being a writer is letting go of your manuscript and sending it out to an editor.
The world you’d created, breathed life into and fleshed out with characters might not be viewed in the same way as you view it. Neither will Person A read it the same way as Person B. It can be very nerve-wracking to share one’s writing with a close friend or a relative, let alone having an editor look it over.
It can also be frustrating if you and the editor do not have compatibility in working together or have extreme ideas about your work. If this happens, do not be afraid to thank the editor, pay them for their time and seek out someone else.  It is in the best interest of your writing that you find an editor with whom you can communicate, learn from their notes and enjoy a working professional relationship with. 
Handing one’s work over to an editor requires a few things on the part of the writer:
vulnerability (to allow one’s work be criticized);
courage (to accept that one’s work might not be everyone’s cup of tea);
a willingness to work (by way of notes from the editor);
patience (because each work, writer and editor have different styles and needs).
As a writer myself, I understand how difficult it is to allow another set of eyes to read your work and form an opinion that might not always be flattering. It is nerve-wracking, unsettling and you live on pins and needles until you get your manuscript back with notes. And when the initial shock is over and you get back to work, using those notes as a guide, you discover that what was good can be made better.
 It has been my experience that editors will generally have a minimum number of hours that they’re willing to work. This is helpful as you search for one that you can work well with.
 You can always learn from an editor you like and work well with, but don’t throw out what was gained from the editor you didn’t work well with. You may find, after some time has passed, that their thoughts were right on the money, though not perhaps not phrased in a way that you were willing to hear.
So sayeth Polonius, in William Shakespeare’s tragedy, Hamlet.
In a rather pedantic and wordy speech where he makes this statement, Polonius (father of Ophelia and Laertes) is advising his listener, Claudius, (and the audience) that being brief will get to the heart of the matter.
In other words, cut out the unnecessary words and get to the point.
While revising my two-act stage play, I joked about how easy it was to tell that I’m a novelist, not a playwright. How did I come by this observation? The obvious culprit is the word count – as I revised my script, I cut some lines down from twenty words to ten. The line still conveyed what I wanted it to say, but it was concise, it was clear, and, more importantly, understood.
Look at the image to the right:
The dialogue between Catamitus and Melpomene is incredibly wordy, more suited to a novel than a script. Whether it’s a screenplay or a stage play, the dialogue must be crisp, tight and minimal to do its work.
While some scriptwriters/playwrights can get away with wordy passages, it’s in part because A. They’ve been writing a long time in that form and know the rules and how to use them or break them; and B. The language is still concise and to the point.
Scripts are for a visual medium, whether it’s for the screen or for the stage – the audience is presented with subtext that can be seen via the actors and the cameras. There is no need for the narrative filler, as in a short story or novel – the director and the actors bring that to life through trial and error in rehearsal.
Let’s take a look at the revised version of the scene:
Compare the original draft with the revised version to the left. Notice that the lines have been revised and arranged differently.
Did the intent change from Original Draft to the Revised Version?
No, the intent is still the same between Catamitus and Melpomene – resolving the confusion surrounding the issue of hotel reservations. Notice how the dialogue has been broken up, refined and shortened – when in performance, the dialogue is snappy, almost coming one on top of the other.
That is the purpose of revision – to produce a maximum image or emotion while using the minimum amount of words. Whether it’s a script or a short story or a novel, less is more and writing is constant re-writing.
As a writer, it’s important to me to create the best possible work I can. In order to do that, I need an objective pair of eyes to comb through the manuscript, picking out character agency, weak plot points, and grammar. There are methods for doing this yourself, but I don’t recommend it, as you may overlook details (or lack thereof) that someone else will find.
Whether it’s a novel, a script or a short story, every writer will create a not-so-great first draft. In order to shape it into something better, a writer then turns to an editor for assistance. In some cases, an editor can help with a story that has stalled out half way through.
When I was working on my current novel, I stalled out in the middle. I’d already cannibalized a short story into the novel, which gave it layers I hadn’t expected. However, I had no sense of what was going to happen next. There were a couple of scenes written out, but I had no idea of where to put them, and no clear, definitive, final wrap-up to the story.
I was stuck, in the truest sense of the word. I needed help. So I found an editor who helped to jump-start a new direction for the Narrator and the story itself. In two five-hour editing sessions, I had gotten past the block and found myself at the story’s end.
How did this happen? I set aside my ego and listened to what my editor had to say. There were points I didn’t necessarily agree with, which pushed me to find a way to make those points work within the story. If I was successful, they stayed in – if not, I ultimately took them out. It was a difficult thing to do, excising portions of my novel (particularly if it was a character I liked), but that’s what the sequel is for. 
Ultimately, as a writer, if I want my work to improve, I need to pay attention to my editor, who also acts as my mentor. The relationship between an editor and a writer is symbiotic – when the two click, the work is a joy (even if it’s still frustrating). When it doesn’t, thank the editor for their time and effort and look for someone with whom you can develop a long, professional relationship with.
Every experience with an editor, even one that doesn’t work out, is a positive one – it helps you focus on your work, your voice and your goal.
That goal? To hone your craft and create your best work.
 The character in question went through nine name changes and switched nationalities – if he hadn’t been so endearing, I’d have written him off long ago.
In this post, I’ll be demonstrating a before and after of a sample text from the About page of a restaurant.
After examining several other pages for a similar type of business, I decided to use this mock-up version: The Blue Suede Shoe Bar is an environment for enjoying peaceful conversations either inside, or, on the patio, while enjoying our food offerings and sipping on excellent wines, ports, beers, and/or spirits. Our wine list has been carefully crafted to provide excellent wines at reasonable prices. Our list features a mix of ‘by the glass’ and ‘by the bottle’ reds. All of our delicious whites are ‘by the glass’. Many are wines that one can find nowhere else except the vineyard itself! Expect to taste great wine. We offer fantastic music six nights each week with a focus on quality singer-songwriters, duos, and the occasional trio, the musical entertainment is designed to enhance your enjoyment of those you are with but not overwhelm it (having said that, we do occasionally let the hair down and bring in a band that ‘cranks it out’!). Music is usually performed from 8:30pm-10:30pm Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. On Mondays and Sundays music is typically 6:30pm-8:30pm. Thursdays are an eclectic mix of music and spoken word (please call to discover what is scheduled for ‘your’ Thursday!). The spoken word will be called Blue Suede Shoe Tales. This will be true life, first person story-telling. Working in conjunction with a local and the wildly successful Storytelling Festival we will provide an environment in which to perfect the art. Something a little bit special in downtown, we hope that you come and enjoy this ‘Casually Elegant’ space.
The above example is giving a lot of good and detailed information of what is offered at this restaurant, but it is broadly written. This can easily be too overwhelming for a potential customer, who may be quickly scanning the web for a place to eat. In many cases, the customer would skip over that site and go on to the next one.
Taking the same information, I’ve distilled and presented it this way: Located downtown, the Blue Suede Shoe is the hot-spot for good food, excellent wines and local and guest musicians to display their talents. From Wednesday to Sunday, the piano keys are tickled in time with guitar and drums, bringing original songs and covers from other bands. Tuesdays are reserved for trivia, wherein knowledge of the minutiae is a highly coveted skill. For each round won, a team of six receives free shots made specifically for the game. At the end, the winning team of the game overall are served a fruit and cheese platter with chocolate cake. Outdoor patio seating provides a lovely ambiance for dinner and drinks. The wines are carefully selected by the owner from California wineries. There are a mixture of wines available sold by the glass or by the bottle and, whichever you choose, you won’t be disappointed. A cocktail list is currently being revised, to accompany the standard choices. For an eclectic and casually elegant dining experience, the Blue Suede Shoe Bar is that something a little bit special you might be looking for.
See the difference? The same information, presented differently, creates two very different pictures of the same restaurant.
Earlier this year, in a conversation I had with a potential client, we were discussing the details of what they were expecting from me regarding their manuscript. When it was indicated that they were planning to self-publish their novel, I asked about the time frame and was startled to hear them say six weeks from our initial consult. They also indicated that editing was the last thing needed before they went forward with it.
This raised several red flags for me, but I’m only going to take the time to discuss two of them, as they are pertinent to editing.
First, that they wanted to publish it within six weeks of the initial consult. This makes the editor’s job harder to do. Why? Because editing is a process – the editor combs through the manuscript, making notes for the writer to help create a stronger piece. Then the manuscript is sent back to the writer, who needs to go through and incorporate the notes given. This process occurs multiple times, until the editor deems it polished and ready to send out.
Creating a tight deadline of six weeks is only setting up everyone involved for failure and that was the second red flag. This puts stress on the editor, who is working hard to give clear and concise notes on what can be improved. It also puts stress on the writer, who may begin to feel resentment towards the editor. This can cause relations between the two to grow tense and unprofessional, a situation that is undesirable. A deadline is good to have, as long as it is realistic and achievable, but it helps to be flexible.
Going back to my potential client, I was able to convey the problems with this, offered a few suggestions in the meantime and, with respect, had to turn it down. Will they come back to me later on, with a more reasonable deadline? Maybe. I’d like to think so, since I was able to give them something to work with.
In the end, I had to go with being honest and respectful of their work and my time. I’d rather lose work that way than create a hostile situation where no one wins.