Reduce, reuse, recycle

Not a bad mantra by any means. But what about when it comes to writing?

I spent several years penning a magnum opus that went nowhere, despite, ironically, being a travel novel. Although I know Heinlein says not to rewrite except on editorial order, I’ve abandoned the book; this thing wasn’t even good enough to get an editor to order anything at all about it.

After all that work, however, I was reluctant to ditch completely what I had written. So, I did a copy and paste job to about 20K words into my WIP Nyasaland. As long as I know I won’t use the scenes again, why not put that previous hard work to good use?

Nyasaland is more or less done, it just needs some ironing out. It struck me in the rereads, however, that I like the new parts much more than the parts salvaged from the old book. In fact, the older scenes are the most difficult to get through and to edit. But why?

Possibility 1. I have improved as a writer. This is my favorite option, since I get to be a smarty pants, and I’m sure it’s true to some degree. Maybe there is a reason not even my girlfriends couldn't finish reading it (yes, the writing and rewriting outlived several relationships). But if this possibility were true, I would be able to fix the problems and be happier with the result. But I’m not. I’m just as unhappy with the edited scenes as I was when I pasted them in.

Possibility 2. I have “Golden Word Syndrome.” I thought the old book was perfect when it clocked in at 230K words. Okay, maybe it was still as perfect at the 200K words I pared it down to. I am meticulous, and every word was exactly the word it needed to be and was where it needed to be. The problem with that assessment is nobody agreed. Nobody said they loved the book. Fewer than five people (out of about twenty who attempted) were even able to finish it. But this possibility doesn’t seem right either. I accept rewriting as part of writing, and expect improvement when I do.

Possibility 3. The transplanted scenes are metaphysically different from the rest of the book. Ever tell a joke that had people rolling at one party only to have it fall flat at the next? “Guess you just had to be there.” Perhaps moving a scene from one book to another is kind of like that; each book has its own indescribable essence and simply changing tenses, names, subtle points of style, etc., isn’t enough. The new scenes in Nyasaland worked because they were created for that book; the old scenes worked in the old book for the same reason.

Possibility 4. The book was completely perfect in every way, I’m overthinking this, and I gave up too early. Yeah, right. See #2.

Possibility 5. I have improved enough to know what’s wrong, but not enough to know how to fix it. Well, this post pretty much proves that, huh?

Be an editor for an hour! Or at least play one in your own home.

I frequent a website called FreeMusicArchive.org. It’s all free and legal; the artists post their songs under a creative commons license for people to download. Some biggish names are there (Son Volt, Deadstring Brothers, Rodrigo y Gabriela)—mostly live tracks recorded at the radio stations that support FMA—but many are unknowns. Tens of thousands of songs, yours within seconds over the internet. We’ve come a long way from holding a tape recorder to the radio, haven’t we?

Anyway, I’d like you all to humor me in a fun exercise. Go to FreeMusicArchive.org. On the right-hand side is a box labeled “Recently Added Highlights.” Next to each track is a plus sign that adds the song to an online music player (you might have to unblock popups). Don’t play directly on the page; I’m going somewhere with this. Add the first five tracks to the FMA player. Hit “pause” before the first track plays (going somewhere with this . . .). Just below that box is another labeled “Most Interesting Highlights.” Add the first five of these tracks. Next, go to the “Browse by Genre” area, and select three genres of your choice. Add one track from each of the first five artists in each genre. You should now have twenty-five tracks in your player.

Ready for the excitement? Hit “Play.”

What do you think of the first track? Great from the start? Horrible? Need to hear more before you decide? If you’re not sure, click the selector to the middle and see if it takes off later. If you’re convinced the song tanks (trust me, you have to kiss a lot of toads on FMA), click “Next.” But if you like it, click “Download.”

[Do not proceed reading until you reach the end of the track list]

So what did you think? Some of the songs were just noise, weren’t they? Worthless and you hit “next” within a few seconds. I’ll bet other tracks had great music, but the singer had a lousy voice. Some tracks probably did most things right, but some critical elements were missing somehow. Or maybe there was nothing wrong with the song at all, it just wasn’t your cup of tea. But then there were the masterpieces, the tracks that started strong and stayed strong. The keepers. How many keepers did you find?

Feel confident in your choices? Well, guess what: you have just done what agents and editors do with stories.

Pretend the tracks are submissions. Some weren’t in your genre, and are similar to submissions that don’t fit the guidelines; they were sent to anyone with an address. Doesn’t mean they weren’t good, just not what you were looking for. Selecting three genres was like posting your guidelines in an effort to up your chances of finding something you’ll like. Even so, the quality varied from incoherent ramblings of people with marginal (I’m being generous here) talent, through people who did most things right but it just wasn't quite "there," to the perfectly fine pieces you simply didn’t like, to the keepers you will listen to five times in the next few hours.

Free downloads are one thing, now imagine being responsible for your magazine’s or publishing house’s financial investments in stories and books. As much as rejections sting sometimes, I think I have some idea of what agents and editors go through.