X-Ray Vision

Today I re-read “Cathedral” by Raymond Carver. I’ll have the opportunity to dissect and discuss this short story at my writing class tomorrow, and I’m itching to hear what my fellow writers have to say about this piece of work. For me, I thoroughly enjoyed the story when I first came across it a few years back.

Today, I had an even better experience. Why was reading this classic short story so much more satisfying this time around? Here is what I think:

Studying the craft of writing has given me x-ray vision.

Well, not quite, but I’m learning to see beyond the actual words of these stories and appreciate the bones and organs hard at work beneath the surface. “Cathedral” is about a man who has his eyes opened, ironically, by a blind man. Today I was swept away watching the main character evolve from his close-mindedness, just as I was the first time, but this morning I was able to stop and acknowledge all of the writerly magic Raymond Carver used to make this story so appealing. His down home voice, the spare imagery, his use of long/short sentences in just the right place, the completely uncomfortable first few hours these characters share, and more–all purposely placed to evoke an emotional response from the readers. And did it ever. Brilliant.

I’m so glad I can finally see it.

New Year, New Project

I am still typing away at the latest draft of my novel-in-progress, but I’ve got a new story forming in my creative world, too. I’m collecting ideas and sentences in a file folder near my desk. This week, I’ll give the new project a little more time and attention, maybe even experiment with a chapter or two.

That brings me to the thought of first drafts. I’ve had plenty of them. Many have become published works, but there are at least as many stories that never evolved into something worth sharing. The trouble is, you don’t know which way it’s going to go until you’re pretty far into the project. Every first draft is a leap of faith. And leaping is scary.

But leaping can by joyous, too. I love the rush of energy when new words flow from my fingers. I love the way unexpected thoughts and ideas pop up in the process. I love it when the idea from that manila folder on your desk becomes something even better than you imagined.

So, here I go. New year, new project. I’m leaping again.

Editing Out The Kids!

In the long journey to tell an exciting book-length story, I’ve done some brutal manuscript editing, but this week is especially tough. I’ve got to nix the kids. Yes, my main character’s own children!

Each draft of this novel has seen big changes. In the first go-round, my main characters had an eventful 50 page nail-biting trek to Idaho that ended in an explosion (and then ended up on the cutting room floor). The second time around I had to add an entirely new desire line built around buried family secrets (so there was a lot of burying to do, so to speak). And now, I am ready to face another big change:  editing out two nice young kids who are bogging down the plot line.

Why? Well, I’d gotten the same feedback over and over from draft one, “What role do the kids play in this story?” and I’ve never been able to answer that question. Then there are the obvious areas in the plot where the kids have to be somewhere, since they aren’t in most of the scenes. So I invented them a babysitter, who was boring and didn’t matter to the story either.

How did I finally decide to make the cut? I realized I was tweaking the plot to make sure they weren’t forgotten or left unattended at home, and keeping it up was becoming a real pain in the ass.

So it’s done. They’re gone.

But maybe not forever. I shaved seven years off my main character’s age in this process, making sure that there is room for the kids in the sequel!