Tuesday Ten: How to View Your Work With Fresh Eyes

I bet you’ve heard that age-old advice about how to get perspective on your manuscript. Put it in a drawer. For a year—or however long it takes you to forget what you wrote.

kcdsTM

Photo: kcdsTM, Flickr Creative Commons

Great advice, right? Except that most of us don’t have a year, or a month, to sit on a manuscript before tackling a rewrite.

You’ve probably guessed by now that I tend to blog about my current writing challenges, and this is no exception. I last rewrote my manuscript in July, but even with several months to gain some distance from the story, I’m finding it difficult to edit/rewrite text when I practically have it memorized.

So how do you re-read your writing with fresh eyes, when your eyes aren’t anything like fresh (at least, not with respect to this particular manuscript!)? Keep reading for ideas!

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Show-Don’t-Tell Practice

This post was originally published January 9, 2010. I’m sharing some back posts this week as I’m off on a research expedition in sunny Florida!
As I crank through the rewrite of my current WIP, I’m finding an awfully lot of “telling” that I need to replace with some better writing. In the spirit of show-don’t-tell, I attempted to come up with five ways to show that it’s cold without saying “it’s cold.”

1. Let the character experience the cold: Gooseflesh prickles up my bare arms as soon as I push off the covers.

2. Let her observe the cold: Ice filmed the inside of the cabin windows. I started shivering even before my feet touched the frozen floorboards.

3. Let her think about the cold: I didn’t expect the day’s chill, not in June. If I’d bothered to check the weather, I might have brought along a sweatshirt or jacket. Instead, I’m here in shorts and a tank top, resisting the urge to curl into a ball or warmth.

4. Let her worry about the cold: As the sun drops beyond the mountains, shadows lengthen, bringing with them the sharp-edged chill of the coming night. It pierces through my thin sweater and I wonder how long it will take before I turn into a human icicle. I have to find the cabin. Quickly.

5. Let her discuss the cold: Brrr!” I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my rain slicker, drawing deeper into the sheltering overhang. “My fingers won’t bend, they’re so frozen.”

Not masterful prose, perhaps, but the exercise helped to get my brain moving in the right direction.

Do you have a technique you’re trying to master? A bit of concentrated practice can help you learn incorporate a new technique smoothly into your writing, the way a batter might practice hitting a hundred balls before the actual game. Pretty soon, the technique becomes second nature. Give it a try!

:-) Cheryl