The Editing Process, or, What I Scream At My Manuscript

I tend to talk to my stories as I work on them.tasting the vintage

This is sometimes exciting and/or bizarre for the spectator.

Things get especially exciting when I am editing.  When I am writing, my vocalizations tend to be little more than grunts and the occasional half-sentence.  But when I am editing, I might say almost anything.

Here is a fair sample of the sort of thing one might hear me say, if one were strolling past Atherton Court (this is actually what my boyfriend and I call our residence; the house itself is not, however, all that the title suggests, being a relatively unpretentious suburban dwelling of the usual sort) of a Sunday afternoon.  The evening is, perhaps, drawing in, the day darkening.  Out of the murk comes A Voice.  Shrill, harsh, vibrant.  Turgid.  It is the cry of The Athertonian, ruthlessly eliminating characters from her novel.

“You prancing peacock! Out out OUT!”
“You are, frankly, redundant. Out you go!”
“May I be honest?  You bore me to tears. You have no place in this work. OUT!”
“I feel as if I write scene after scene with you and yet I do not know you. And this isn’t like sexy-enigmatic; it is irritating-enigmatic. Because I suspect you are doing it on purpose. OUT!”
“You are a humorless drone and I hate you AND your face. OUT!”
“You’re cool, but alas all the people who connected you to this plot-line have recently ceased to exist… so… sorry. I may use parts of your brain in other characters. I hope this is a comfort to you. Out!”

 

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