Writing and editing are inseparable companions. Ask the most prolific writers and they’ll tell you that despite millions of books sold and hundreds of titles under their belt, an editor still looks at every word they write.
The most polished writer who turns in a pristine manuscript will have still missed something. And it might be big. I meant to say genuine but wrote geriatric instead. Oops. Four rounds of edits and none of us caught that?
Established authors realize that every book published likely has at least one oops left in it. We learn to turn our momentary grief into a marketing opportunity. “First reader to comment on the typo in Chapter Seventeen receives a gift card to purchase more books!”
Though writers become well-versed in the inevitability of editing in their writing, they don’t always pay attention to what needs to be edited out of their self-talk. Those oopsies can be the most dangerous of all, because misguided or erroneous self-talk forms neural connections that lead to more misguided internal dialogue.
My editor will catch that.
The writer notices a problem but doesn’t fix it, leaning instead on the editor to find a new word or figure out how to punctuate a quote within a quote within a quote or where to find 10,000 words to trim off the manuscript. If we frequently default to letting someone else solve a known problem, we subconsciously think of ourselves as unable to solve those problems. We form a neurological pathway that tells us we don’t need to own the known. We leave messes for other people to clean up. Doesn’t work with teens. Doesn’t work with writers either. And we cheat ourselves out of the education embedded in problem-solving. Need a different word here, but you’re not sure what it is? Flag it rather than letting it stop your creative flow. But return to it later and figure it out.
I have no chance at publishing this project.
That sentence on repeat can kill enthusiasm but also derail opportunities. It throws shade on our efforts and can be the single sentence that keeps us from finishing. Maybe it is a project that is unlikely to be published. If so, work on something else. But if we approach our computers with a built-in attitude that we have no hope our work will land with readers…and we change nothing except how deep that thought takes root… Well, watch for a Books & Such broadcast addressing how to stay miserable as a writer.
I deserve to have this project published.
Just as dangerous is leaving this thought rattling through our minds. Telling ourselves we are the worst, or conversely “I am the greatest and I am owed a contract or representation,” are both lies. And both can cripple us as writers. If we edit out deserve, entitled, owed from our self-talk, truth has room to work. What?
If we edit out deserve, entitled, owed from our self-talk, truth has room to work.
I’ll just finish stripping the wallpaper off the spare bedroom walls before I work on what my agent or editor has been waiting for. I’ll be able to think more clearly then.
Talking ourselves into rationalizing procrastination leads to unpleasant or even disastrous outcomes. Is it a common writer habit? Yes. Is it deletable? Yes. No writer is solely a writer (or few of them anyway). We’re moms or dads, daughters or sons, sisters, brothers, employees, teachers, doctors, volunteers, coaches, special needs caregivers… Full plates. Taking care of writing responsibilities or writing business can so often seem like a “when I get time” item. That self-talk needs a good edit. If you are tasked as a writer, signed with an agent, have a book deadline, or have been invited to submit something to an agent or editor, or if you want an ongoing writer experience, it can’t bear the label “when I get time.” We micro-prioritize all the time, but we can’t tell ourselves what our agent or editor is waiting for is not a priority…if we want to keep writing.
I can’t (pick one) lower the word count any farther/change the main character’s name as the editor asked/write faster/write more cleanly/write when circumstances aren’t ideal.
It’s the “I can’t” part of that erroneous self-talk that changes our neural pathways in unhelpful (no, let’s edit that to something stronger–hazardous) ways. Is it hard? Sure. Taking writing seriously is seriously hard. But you CAN trim the word count. You CAN change a character’s name despite your fondness for it. And you CAN write faster with a mindset shift or a pattern readjustment. You CAN write more cleanly as you develop the self-editing skills you’ll need for the entirety of your writing career. And who knew? You CAN write…and in fact, few writers don’t write any other way…when circumstances aren’t ideal. “I can’t” self talk predicts defeat. “It’s hard but here we go” predicts success that leads to more success.
“I can’t” self talk predicts defeat. “It’s hard but here we go” predicts success that leads to more success.
I’m just not wired to (pick one) take rejection/work under pressure/handle a complete rewrite/care about the business part.
And that’s the beauty of having a human brain to work with. We can be rewired. Neuroplasticity is a beautiful thing. We don’t just force ourself into new habits. The way we think and what we tell ourselves can disconnect bad connections and, like a skilled electrician in a home remodel, run new wires that are safe, up to code, and efficient. This isn’t a condemning post. We’ve all had to edit our self-talk. Some of us thought we couldn’t write without our 500-calorie super-sweet and deliriously beautiful venti-sized fancy coffee. Or that we can’t write without background noise, which changed to not being able to write if there’s any noise and did the icemaker just kick in? We may not be wired for what we’ll face as writers. But if we don’t edit the self-talk that reinforces the impossibility, we’ll never attempt the training that will help us implement the gift of neuroplasticity.
What other kinds of self-talk do you now recognize need a good edit? We’d love to hear your comments. It would be unusual if your self-talk doesn’t sound like other writers’. Welcome to the club.
And don’t forget to check out the Books & Such Literary Management website for its blog archives, info about our podcast, and news about upcoming writing intensives.
What it Means When an Agent Says Your Project Isn’t Ready
I was not a confident writer at all when I started. I never imagined I could write a book or that a publisher would want anything I could write. I wrote articles and devotions . . . and eventually built up confidence as I worked with dozens of editors.
These two verses became life verses for me:
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13
“With man this is impossible, but all things are possible with God.” Matthew 19:26
And isn’t it interesting, Janet, that the context for “I can do all things” (Phil. 4:13) is exactly right for an author? Paul was writing about the “all things” of rejection and loss and having nothing good happening or everything going well, of being desperately poor or living in abundance. He wasn’t writing about “If I think it, I can do it.” But of finding contentment whether contracted or not, whether sales are strong or not, whether ideas flow or not. The context was his problems! He could count on finding contentment no matter what because Christ would give him strength to be content. Such a fascinating context for real writer life!
Yes. The context of contentment and Paul’s situation regarding Phil. 4:13 is critical to our understanding as writers. It’s tough to be content and to continue on in your calling when you’ve faced dozens of rejections over a several-year period (speaking from recent experience). The challenge is finding contentment within rejection and continually offering oneself up for whatever God has for us. I pray I’m worthy for any of that.
I tell myself I’m not a writer,
these sonnets are just way too light,
and the spiral’s getting tighter,
so I just don’t write.
I tell myself my words don’t matter,
and style goes from banal to bad,
and what that does just goes to shatter
the dreams of authorship I had.
I tell myself I’m just a hack,
a funny jingle every now and then,
and what I tell myself comes back
to drain the ink out of my pen,
leaving me to wonder why
I ever had the gall to try.
My first attempt to comment vanished. One more try,if I may…
***
I tell myself I’m not a writer,
these sonnets are just way too light,
and the spiral’s getting tighter,
so I just don’t write.
I tell myself my words don’t matter,
and style goes from banal to bad,
and what that does just goes to shatter
the dreams of authorship I had.
I tell myself I’m just a hack,
a funny jingle every now and then,
and what I tell myself comes back
to drain the ink out of my pen,
leaving me to wonder why
I ever had the gall to try.
Ooof. I really felt the “I can’t write when the circumstances aren’t ideal” one! As a stay-at-home mom to a toddler right now, “ideal” writing opportunities are few and far between. I’ve had to learn how to talk back to this kind of thinking and be flexible on when I write and for how long I write at a time. While I love big long blocks to really settle into the writing process, I’ve also learned the power of writing a chapter in 400 word increments during nap times! A little progress here and there adds up to more progress in the long run than waiting for those ideal writing moments that rarely come.