The Pleasure and Pain of Editing

You’ve just finished a full draft. OMG! You are amazing! The last thing you want to do is acknowledge that you’ve only begun the true work of putting a story out into the world.

Interactive Brokers War Room

“Interactive Brokers War Room” By Ɱ

Editing can be daunting for a number of reasons, not least of which is the time investment, but I find that’s not the main thing writers shy away from. For most writers, it’s a lack of understanding of how to edit. Where to start? Spellcheck? A complicated wall maze of string, post-its, and 3×5 card madness? Continue reading

Words Matter: Quest for Equality in a World of “Girls”

Recently, I’ve been doing a lot of editing of my and others’ work. As writers, we know that words are powerful. They are also delicate and easy to misuse.

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During my time as a student of Linguistics, I ran across the Sapir–Whorf hypothesis, or Whorfianism, which holds that language either determines or at least influences thought and that linguistic categories limit and determine cognitive categories. What this means is that our language structures how we think, the ways we classify things, our worldview. For example, if your language is divided into “genders”, it is really hard for you not to see the world as also being divided. Similarly, languages that don’t separate the future from the present tense influence how people save for retirement.

But enough science. What’s this got to do with writing?

When gender inequality exists in our internal language it can influence our worldview and our writing. For example, I’ve noticed that many writers frequently use the word “girl” to refer to adult female characters, while they rarely use the word “boy” to refer to adult male characters. Similarly, a group of people of mixed gender is often referred to as “guys” or “men”. My own novel Survivors’ Club has several instances of this that I shamefully missed in my final editorial pass. As a born Minnesotan, “you guys” is the way to pluralize “you” and it’s a tough habit to break, especially when talking about military or paramilitary groups.

So, what? Why get so wrapped up about this?

Because language matters!Blue Wood (2).png

When we use diminishing terms for a character, treat an adult like a child, or make an entire gender invisible in a crowd, we are telling the world implicitly what we think of that character or group of people. Girls need to be protected and cared for because girls are children. Women are adults who are capable of making independent choices and dealing with the consequences.

How can you help make the world of words a better place?

What not to do:

Do not use the term “girl” unless the character is A) female and B) under 18.

Instead:

Think about your characters. Would you call a male character of this age “boy”? If you answer no, well, “young woman” works fine or simply “woman”. Don’t let the laziness of typing an extra few letters hold you back from writing about your characters with the accuracy and respect they deserve.

The exception to this rule is character dialog. Some characters, especially those of a certain age or background, will call any female, regardless of age “girl” and if that’s what the character would say, have them say it. But you, dear writer, are not that antiquated character. You can do better.

What not to do:

Do not use “guys” or “men” to mean a mixed gendered group. For example, “The soldiers marched across the parade field. General Bushy Beard was pleased to see the men in their dress uniforms.” Or “Detective Eva Maxwell enjoyed the banter of the guys in the bullpen as they waited for Captian Dwayne to brief them.”

Instead:

“Guards” “soldiers” “cops” “troops” and on and on. There are plenty of non-gendered ways to describe almost any group of people.

What are your writing pet peeves?  Continue reading

Life Insurance

Once upon a time, things had been different in a grand old sort of way. A life lived on the upper edge as if soaring ever onward on the silver tipped wings of a peregrine falcon. Life had unfurled, striped and bedazzled, beboggled as if agoge at some fantastic celebration. All it lacked were actual fireworks to burst across the sky in torrents of red, white, gold, and green. Fiery flowers dancing in the air, born in a single, shattering explosion to a life of ethereal beauty. All they knew was heaven. From their point of view, the world below was broad and flat and all its inhabitants only so many upturned faces, gaping in awe or cowering in terror.

What divinity, she thought, to live as fireworks did. What divinity and yet, when they were gone, no one noticed. No one remarked on the death of a sparkler, on the loss of a Roman candle. No one mourned that flashy green puff of light in the night sky, ringed by silver drops like angels’ tears. They gloried only in a firework’s life and forgot it ever existed the moment it expired.

So maybe the life of a firework wasn’t perfect, but at least people noticed. At least they cared, if only for a moment.

It was in this wistful and resentful mood that she snatched her red paper cup from the counter, strode out of the shop, and was struck by the number 95 uptown bus, the side of which advertised life insurance.

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Author’s Note: Found a writing exercise from my time in the Kidd Tutorial program. Still trying to make sense of it. Your thoughts/feels?