Bleeding In Black and White

“That’s the magic of revisions—every cut is necessary, and every cut hurts, but something new always grows.” – Kelly Barnhill

Editor or ax murderer? It takes a keen eye and steel constitution to strike the critical blow—the perfect balance between what stays and what goes. If you’re a puritan, it’s easy to hack away the offensive undergrowth and overindulgence that crowds out the sun. Dead and discarded branches leading to nowhere. Countless leaves gathering at the hem of your plot, tripping up the reader and concealing their path. Not to say that a little deflection and misdirection isn’t a beautiful thing when used deftly and with crafty discernment. But the artful hand of a literary horticulturist wields supreme restraint and jealous commitment.        

The merciful blade slicing at the root of an infirmed forest is like the humane smattering of red amendments across a soiled page. Thoughtful editing can make a good work truly great the same way poor editing of an inspired idea becomes a stale depiction. But where is that clever line between clear cut and creative overload? Is there a means to manage the dense magnitude of the narrative while undertaking its delicate dissection?

Step away.

Turn your face toward a new grove. Forget what you’ve seen in the past to absorb a moment of wandering relief. Then, when your mind has traveled further than recollection serves—a distance that has shaken the effects of your previous evergreen glade of blindness—it’s now safe to return. Your final work of mindful revision will bring clarity to your story and intention to your wayward wood.