Frankenstein-ing
There comes a point in your editing where you have the original journal entry or free write that sparked an idea, the napkin you wrote on when inspiration hit in a random place, draft one, draft one with feedback, and draft two printed with your mark-ups. Or, you’ve received readers’ reports from an editor or reviewers and you’re unsure how to proceed. Then, you sit to write, and you cannot get your thoughts clear. (I was about to write “think straight” but some folks on this literature can’t “think straight” and don’t want to!)
The fear at this moment is that you have become Dr. Frankenstein and your manuscript Frankenstein’s monster. You do not want to have a draft that has echoes from previous drafts because you want a clear narrative. You don’t want there to be loose ends in your argument or in your scene or odd turns of phrase/referents/antecedents in your poems. I have been there.
For some people, this can be where I intervene as a developmental editor: we consult and I hear the narrative of how you came to this draft, your hopes for the project, your current concerns and your persistent frustrations. Then, I examine your manuscript and facilitate a way forward. I can be very helpful!
However, there is a group of folks for whom I cannot be helpful. For those people, their picture of their forward path is clear enough. They know several of the major components like argument, structure, organization, end-point of a scene, what’s revealed in the scene, what shifts in the plot, etc. These folks don’t need me. Quite frankly, a developmental editor at that point may do more harm than good because their voice is already guiding them.
For everyone else, I offer the following. Zero drafts and cutting room floors.
Zero drafts tend to be the place that people start. I propose that it is the place where you can start over. Practically speaking, a zero draft allows you to take advantage of the blank page and create what will feel like a new version of your document. What is a zero draft? Zero drafts can take many forms. At their most simple, they attempt to create a blank slate for a writer. One could be a new outline. Pretend you are just starting after having read someone else’s work. How might you organize it now? Another could be an elevator speech. Academics often practice these when applying for jobs, but they are useful for creating a sound-bite. If Twitter were a reliably safe intellectual space, how might you fit your idea into 280 characters? Write an abstract. Pretend your characters are at a dinner party with some of your closest friends, what are they talking about? Who is intrigued by whom? Who starts an argument first? Another option would be a good old timed free-write starting with “This project is about.” Each of these are exercises that can prompt you to move from feeling stuck to knowing something more about what you want your project to be.
I also suggest the cutting room floor. If you are clear about how you wish to proceed. I strongly suggest beginning with a blank page. As you comb through old drafts and copy and paste useful material, create a new document titled “The cutting room floor.” This will be the repository for all the turns of phrase, scenes, descriptions, analyses, and other writing that doesn’t make it but that you consider valuable. That material can make its way back into the writing or it can make its way into another form of communication: speech, TED talk, essay, op-ed, classroom lecture. None of the writing is ever wasted, it can be transformed.
So, do not be deterred if you find yourself stymied by your feedback or your drafts. You’ve got this!