Editing Wildwood - aka - Nanowrimo in reverse

For those of you who have never participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month,) the idea is to write a complete first draft of a novel, or at least 50K words of one, in one month. It is HARD, and, to date, I've never succeeded.

So what does this have to do with Wildwood, book #3 in the Moonlit Trilogy? Well, the draft I submitted to my publisher was 156,000 words, and I knew in my soul that it was the best story I'd ever written. It's my favorite piece of the trilogy. My editor agreed: do not, under any circumstance, touch the plot, she said. And then she said: But I need you to cut 57,000 words. Minimum. Really, it'd be better if you could find 60,000 words to cut.

Sixty. Thousand. Words.

Or, NaNoWriMo in reverse.

When I first sat down to tackle this edit, I thought: I can absolutely do this. No problem. I'm wordy and I know it. I can clean this up in a single pass. So I painstakingly evaluated every word, tightened up sentences, cut an expository paragraph or lines three and four of a description here and there. And at the end of the first pass, I had cut 6,000 words. I had also taken two weeks to do it.

Editing a 75,000 word story like Moonlit and Windswept took every brain cell I had. Once I realized I was essentially editing them BOTH size-wise, I buckled down, glared at my screen, and launched into pass #2.

I started seeing some serious word-loving habits. Like descriptions. Boy-howdy do I love to word-draw. Three paragraphs of artsy, flowery page-decor became a sentence or two bold, direct strokes.

I'm a transition-junkie. I quit cold turkey, cutting their heads off whenever I saw them peek up at the bottom of a paragraph. CHOP CHOP CHOP. And boom, without the transition present, the paragraphs flowed BETTER, because if the writing is tight and the motion is streamline, a transition becomes a speed bump.

Full-body feels. This probably accounted for 25,000 words. And I don't mean the way a "feels" moment pulls at a reader's heart strings. I mean the way every single action pulled at every single possible part of my main character (although hearts, centers, stomachs, guts, middles, and mouths seem to be favorites of mine). I shouldn't tell a reader how my character internally responds to a positive or negative moment because the reader should experience the moment without me telling them how to do it.

And, last and certainly most painful for me, expository paragraphs. I love to sink into a scene and roll around, like a dog on a carpet, feet in the air, tongue out, just *feeling* it. Inviting a reader into a character's head space for a good long time. Like a page. Maybe two. I caught myself skimming these words and sections I was sure I loved, and why? Because sure they were pretty but they didn't affect the story in any way so I didn't need to change them so why look at them.

Wait, what?

If a sentence does not affect the plot or the character, if the plot and the character are exactly the same on the other side of the sentence as they were before it, then what was the point of the sentence? The idea of a story is to keep the action and characters in motion. You know what dogs do after they roll all over the floor? They take a nap.

And there was my other 35,000 words.

Finally, one month, 60,000 cut words later, edits for Wildwood were done. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and taught me some invaluable lessons about the way I write, and how to make it better.

Wildwood now has a release date - September 22nd, 2015, and one truly amazing cover.

I can't wait to see what y'all think of the conclusion to Tanzy's story, and my new, lean, action-packed story-telling skills.

It's been one helluva ride.

Thank you for coming along.

A look back at the year I swore I'd use to put writing first.

This past January, I declared to myself (and quite possibly to my Facebook network) that this was the year - 2014 - that I would put my writing first! I would join every writing group/club/association I could find. I would draft during normal-people hours and not just at 3am. I would commit to the craft: learn, read, study. I would act like a REAL writer.

So in January, I joined several writing groups. I left my full-time job as a social media specialist. I used the time my daughter was at pre-school to crank out word counts. I took a research trip to Cumberland Island with a few friends to experience the setting of book #3, and we camped back country (i.e. gather and boil water). I was serious about this writer thing. SERIOUS.

Before too long, my drafting sessions became more of a stare-down with my blank computer screen and the taunting, blinking cursor. I started avoiding my office. Then the second floor of my house all together. I tried writing by hand in the woods in the dead of winter, sitting on fallen trees to resurrect the magic and compulsion of that feeling of i-have-to-write-right-now-or-i-will-throw-a-fit. Instead my butt went numb. And my hands.

I started skimming over emails from those groups I dutifully joined. Then I started screening them by their titles and the few words visible on gmail's preview. And once Gmail started separating emails by categories, i stopped checking them all together.

In February, I revamped my swag and headed to IndieGirl Con in Charleston, SC. I met some amazing people - inspiring, kick-you-in-the-pants people, which made the drive and the predictably unpredictable southern coastal weather worth the trip. I had my first video interview, and I also suffered a royal case of food poisoning. Or at least I *thought* it was food poisoning.

In March I found out I was pregnant... two months pregnant. Turns out baby #2 had gone back country camping with me, and had definitely been on board during the now suspect food poisoning. Suddenly, finishing book #3 in the Moonlit trilogy had an expedited deadline. And all those groups and trips and conferences... needless to say, that part of writerdom took a back seat to just sitting down and writing, which became harder week to week as my energy tanked and i found myself spending a lot more time in the kitchen. Plus, pregnancy brain is no joke. I once went to Target and then called my husband to ask him what I'd gone to get. I still have no clue what I intended to buy.

In May, I bought a horse. (I what...? I WHAT???) I know, I know. Even though I work in the horse world, I haven't owned a horse in ten years. This January, when I finished tuning up a client's horse, my three year old daughter asked me: "Mommy, will we ever have a horse we don't have to give back?" See, now you want to go buy a horse too, right? I found an ex-race horse that needed lots of food and time off, so we were the perfect pair. And he made me feel like me again. Suddenly I wasn't avoiding my laptop anymore. I'd mentally chew on a major plot point as I curried the daily clumps of mud from his coppery coat. Then it hit me: my brain works the same way whether I'm trying to find a certain object in my house or write a story; if I'm trying too hard, i don't stand a chance.

By mid-summer, I was asleep around 8pm most nights, which was eating up my best writing times. So I had to learn to draft smarter. I learned to write in 15-30 min snatches of free time while tuning out Dora the Explorer instead of needing to make a mug of tea and settle in for a several hour stretch. I used my beta-readers earlier on, cringing as I sent them the third draft instead of the thirtieth. And I finally, finally learned to outline (which with five POVs, two worlds, a hundred threads to tie in, and pregnancy brain was a MUST.) I also attended UTopYA Con in Nashville, TN, where I reconnected with several of those fantastic people I'd met in Charleston, shook my pregnant booty all over the dance floor, and heard this amazing piece of advice from the keynote speaker: Feeling selfish is better than feeling unfulfilled. It's rock solid advice.

In October, I turned book #3, which my publisher has coined "Wildwood," Eight days later, baby #2, Annabelle Rose, was born. I'm up to my eyeballs in diapers and still waiting to see if this draft will be green-lighted to head into the official editing process. While I wait, I'm sketching out a few new ideas to see which one demands to be written next, and I'm toying with the idea of a kids' book series.

And now here, looking back on the last twelve months, I might just feel like a writer after all. We write because we live, and we write TO live. But there's a balance - a tiny, new human that depends on me, a big, beautiful sun to enjoy, a horse that has a love for having his ears scratched, a Britney Spears dance party with a three year old in a tutu - and there are days or nights when the words come and need to be given attention.

The words, the worlds in my head, they're what make me a writer. I set out this year to commit to my craft, put my writing first, and learn how to be a "real" writer. It didn't happen quite like I thought it would or should, but I think maybe it happened anyway.

Work in Progress (WIP) Blog Hop - giving you a tiny sneak peek into Wildwood, book 3 in the Moonlit Trilogy

First, thank you to Colleen Story for inviting me to join the Work in Progress blog hop, which gives me the chance to offer Moonlit fans a tiny peek into the third book of the series. I can't wait for my tribe to experience the conclusion of Tanzy's journey. I'm honored Colleen chose me, as I'm a huge fan of hers, and I'm appreciative of her commitment to exploring how to maintain mental, emotional, and physical wellness while working in the creative field. Check out a glimpse of Colleen's WIP on her blog HERE. She also provides a fantastic analysis of the mental/emotional process of drafting, which I found myself nodding along with as I read it.

Here are the rules of the hop: Provide a link back to the person who nominated you (done!) Write a little bit about your WIP and give the first few sentences of the first three chapters. Then nominate a few more writers to do the same.

Here we go!

WIP Title: My wonderful publisher has already christened book 3 in the Moonlit trilogy "Wildwood." We added a sneak peek of book 3 into the back of Windswept (book 2) so we came up with the official title early on this one. But before my publisher named book 3, the working title was "Ascent."

A little bit about the story: My current WIP is the third and final book in the Moonlit trilogy. I can't tell you too much about it without giving away spoilers for book 2, but I'll tell you what I can!

In the final book of the trilogy, both sides of the veil are at play, and several characters step into the spotlight for a turn front and center, continuously blurring the line between good and evil. Asher and Vanessa's motives and histories are explored in depth. They truly took me by surprise, and I'm curious to see how readers react to their part of the story. This book goes back to the mystery feel of Moonlit, except I keep the characters more in the dark than the reader, who will realize when a character is acting on a false lead long before the character does. The pieces of the puzzle and prophecy are woven together primarily by four characters: Tanzy, Vanessa, Jayce, and Hope, with one of the last chapters coming from a very special voice. And I promise nearly every thread I've pulled along the way will be tied in and resolved by the last page.

Here are the opening lines of the first three chapters. These are from the second draft, and are totally devoid of an editor's polishing, so bear with me :)

Chapter 1 (Tanzy's POV): If I lose ground to Asher, I will not regain it. This basic fact screams through every muscle like a commander to an army. Prepare to hurt. Fight through the pain. Asher will kill me the moment he detects a chance.

Chapter 2 (Jayce's POV): Clouds pass overhead, murky grays laced with slivers of pink. They remind me of a charcoal sketch. My left hand tingles and a memory of smudging pencil lead from line to shadow flitters across my mind.

Chapter 3 (Vanessa's POV): "You must have missed something!" I slap the closest canvas from its easel. The sound of it clattering to the floor does nothing to release the pressure brewing in my chest, nor does the reaction of my Mouse, a blind Unseen creature, who jumps back as if I struck her instead of the painting.

My turn to tag! I nominate:
Charity Bradford
Paul Anthony Shortt
Kerri Cuevas
Elisabeth Wheatley
Lori Ann Robinson

I opted not to give my nominations a deadline for their posts, as we are all furiously working on new pieces, so make sure to check back if they don't currently have up their WIP posts.

What are the most memorable opening lines you've ever read?  I don't know if a book has ever hooked me as fast as Gillian Flynn's "Dark Places: A Novel." Check out the opening lines, told from main character Libby Day:

I have a meanness inside of me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slip out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor so you could stomp on it. It's the Day blood. Something's wrong with it. I was never a good little girl, and I got worse after the murders.

How could you read those sentences and then STOP? I couldn't. I think I read the whole book in two days.