Editing 2
Cut
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 30} -Cut
This part hurts.
When I write, it's so personal. Each time I send a piece I've written into the world, it's like baring a piece of my soul. I put my heart onto the page and give others the power to damage it with their reaction to my words.
Any artist does this. Art is an extension of ourselves, it's letting down our walls a little bit so that others can peer over into the dark and tender places inside of us. We hope people will be gentle with us but they often are not.
As I seek to grow stronger in my craft, working with a good editor always grows me the most. I work hard on a piece until I feel it is perfect and then I release it into their hands.
It comes back cut to pieces. Deletions and additions, suggestions and critiques mark up the page. I don't recognize my own work anymore. For a moment it feels like rejection. I don't want to let go of these words I worked so hard to pour onto the page. She's suggesting I cut out parts that I agonized over. My heart feels a little wounded and I have to walk away from the computer for a few minutes.
I come back and look again. I realize that her words are right. I couldn't see it clearly from my vantage point but the cuts are needed. I could have said it better with fewer words. The cursor blinks like a question. What are you going to do? Which words will get cut and which will remain?
This part hurts. Deep cuts always do. But then comes the healing. You can't have one without the other.
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From Finding My Voice to Finding My Place
When I started sharing my writing with the world a little over a year ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I still don't. I have some bylines under my belt but I am still just figuring this out one day at a time.
When I sat at my first writer's conference, a small event that I had received a scholarship to based on the first piece of writing I sent out into the world last year, I felt so out of place. I sat next to authors who were pitching manuscripts of their books to editors and agents. I leafed through titles at the book table of others who had been writing for most of their lives, who had a plan and a purpose. I was just beginning.
The dreaded question, "What are you working on?" was asked by every person I met. Sometimes I tried to make myself as small as possible, melt into the background, so I wouldn't get asked again. My answer, "I am just trying to find my voice right now" seemed ridiculous. But it was the truth.
I had silenced my voice for so long that I didn't know how to really use it anymore. I just wanted to be in a place with other writers and learn from them. I left that conference with some great tools and ideas to get started on my brand new blog and submitting writing to others, but I still wasn't sure what it was I wanted to say.
My writing, at fist, felt like that timid answer I gave at the writer's conference. I was scared to raise my voice above a whisper, holding back and trying to sound polished and sure. I felt so lost in the sea of amazing writers online and paralyzed by my lack of knowledge. Did I mention I didn't have a clue what I was doing?
An amazing thing happened when I started sharing my voice with others, though. I found real people on the other side of those words I had read and the pedestals I had placed other writers upon. I don't know how I had made them these untouchable superheroes of faith and vulnerability. I guess we do that with anyone who is living the life we want to live. It makes it all seem so unattainable.
I sent a couple pieces out to collaborative blogs I loved. The first month...cue the crickets chirping. I pulled my courage up around me and sent again. I about fell out of my chair when I received an email from a writer I adored saying my piece needed some editing and asked if I would be willing to work on it with her to get it ready for publication. I won't lie. I went all fan girl but then I played it cool and emailed her back. Continue Reading
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