#wref

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

Hiding his family diaries had never been so difficult. 

Lance McClain, last of the McClain line, sighed, staring down at the small stack of books he held within his hands. Why couldn’t he have grabbed more clothes or beauty products and shoved them into his bag, he’ll never know [he does, he knows the reason, can feel the energy from the books, the knowledge, the history in his hands, and has to ignore the urge to open them and spend hours between the pages]. 

Swallowing thickly, the blue paladin looked around his small room within the castle ship, hoping to find any sort of hiding spot where he could stash the books. There was no way he’d be able to store them here without at least one of the team finding and reading them, especially if it happened to be Hunk. Lance loved his friend, cared for him fiercely, but he knew Hunk’s penchant for snooping, and knew that all the secrets he’d been trying to keep from the team would be unraveled should Hunk find the books.

The mystery of his fierce and aching homesickness, worse than any of the other paladin’s, would be made clear for any and all if Hunk found the books. He’d already worked so damn hard to take as much attention off himself as he could, sabotaging his intelligence and introverted nature by making himself seem as obnoxious and loud as seemingly possible. It wasn’t hard, all things considered; a couple not-so-subtle digs at Keith, half hearted flirting with Allura, and horribly bad jokes made Lance McClain seem as normal and outgoing a person as he could be. 

Opening the door to his room, Lance glanced around the silent, darkened hallways for any late night walkers, knowing that Shiro’s nightmares often kept him awake at night and Pidge’s obsession over finding her father and brother made it highly likely for either or both of them to still be awake at this hour. Not that Lance could really say that he hadn’t ever spent countless nights awake in his own fear back on earth, but Lance relished his time in space [so, so very far away from his old family home, from the hurt and the horror he’d left behind, so far away from the filled up cemetery and the house that always seemed hungry], due to the ability to easily sleep most nights now. 

Seeing no one wandering the halls, and not hearing the clack-clack-clacking of Pidge’s keyboard, the blue paladin quietly exited his room, making his way down to the Lion hangars. The eerie silence of the castle made Lance twitch, thoughts and memories clouding his mind briefly as he tried to hurry his way down to Blue. 

“Lance? What’re you doing up, bud?” 

Lance barely held back a loud shriek, sucking in a surprised breath and turning around so quickly he nearly got whiplash. Seeing that it was a tired Shiro, Lance scrambled to try and hide the small, precious pile of books and diaries and letters behind his back, out of his leader’s eyesight. The wide, panicked look on his face must have made Shiro pause, because the older paladin was staring a little suspiciously at his team mate. 

“Oh, uh, hey, hi-Shiro! Wow, I didn’t, uh, expect you to, uhm, be awake at this hour-I was just heading down to the-the, uh, uhmm, the kitchens! Yeah! I woke up a little hungry for food-goo, so I thought I’d go, uh, grab something to munch before going back to bed!” Lance stammered, hiding the books behind his back and sucking on his bottom lip, heart beat hammering fast as he stood before Shiro. “What-uh, what are you doing up?” 

Shiro seemed to huff in slight amusement and Lance fought back a grimace, hoping that Shiro would just let him walk away without any more invasive questions. “I couldn’t sleep,” His leader admitted uncomfortably, not bothering with expanding on his explanation as his eyes narrowed and flickered down to Lance’s arms, tilting his head as if he were trying to catch a glimpse of what Lance was carrying, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll accompany you to the kitchen-”

“There’s no need!” Lance said quickly, the panic of being found out overriding his usual sensibility and he fought the urge to kick himself. Way to make yourself seem more suspicious dude. Shiro’s eyebrows rose and Lance cleared his throat nervously, “I’m uh, just getting one of those ration bars and then I’m gonna go back to bed, so there’s no, uh, reason for you to come with me, it’ll just be really boring anyway, you should really try getting some sleep yourself Shiro.”

Shiro stared at Lance dully for a moment, trying to work his sluggish brain through Lance’s word vomit. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, even more suspicious than before, “Is... something the matter Lance? You seem a bit jumpy.”

The blue paladin chuckled uncomfortably, avoiding his leader’s eyes. He didn’t want to lie directly to Shiro’s face, but what else could he do? Tell him the truth? Lance didn’t think so, Shiro would probably think it was ridiculous anyway, he thought bitterly, “I’m just... homesick.” He admitted, though the words felt bitter and acidic in his mouth.

Lance glanced up and fought the urge to gag at the sympathy on Shiro’s face, a wave of bitterness cresting and settling within his lanky body. It’s not like his leader knew what Lance was hiding, there’s no way Shiro would be able to understand all the horror Lance had gone through simply for being of the McClain bloodline. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro asked kindly, his heart going out to the blue paladin, knowing how much difficulty the younger man had with adjusting to being so far away from his family; after all, he and the rest of the team had seen the image of Lance’s family during the first mind meld, and every other mind melding training after that, even if he didn’t know that Lance’s family had all died out years before.

Lance shook his head sharply, gathering what he knew was a brittle smile to hide the pain that Shiro’s question brought. Lance so desperately wanted to confide in his leader, in his entire team really, but he knew how the others would see him if they knew the truth: unstable, a liar, and Lance just... couldn’t handle being called that by his space family.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just gonna grab something to eat before going back to bed. I’ll probably be fine after some sleep,” Lance said instead, giving his leader a much more genuine smile this time, “You just go on and get back to bed, Shiro. You really need to get more rest.”

Shiro hesitated before nodding, knowing that pushing Lance right now would probably be a bad idea. Moving to re-enter his room, the older paladin yawned and shot Lance a wave, “Goodnight then Lance. If you need to talk, you can always come wake me up, okay?”

The other paladin nodded and waved back, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, goodnight Shiro!”

Lance waited a few moments until he was certain that Shiro wouldn’t come back out before continuing on his way down to the Blue hangar. Heaving a sigh, the blue paladin clutched his family books to his chest as he entered, smiling softly and relaxing marginally at the warm, welcoming purr that Blue directed towards him. The knowledge that Blue knew everything, had seen through all his memories and thoughts and fears and had still chosen him despite them filled Lance’s chest with warmth and soft love, which he sent to his beautiful Lion.

“Hey girl,” he whispered quietly, moving towards her and entering her maw when she opened up for him easily, “Sorry to wake you, just wanted to come by and...” he drifted off, closing his eyes as Blue sent him soothing rumbles, an image of a semi-hidden nook behind the paladin seat filling his mind. Lance grinned, knowing that she was giving him permission to keep his deepest secrets here, even if she felt that he should confide within the team.

“I will, one day, I promise,” Lance soothed, patting her controls gently as he opened the secret compartment, getting a little thrill that he hasn’t felt since the last and final time he’d ever gone back to the family house. There was something so satisfying, and at the same time terrifying, in finding a secret passageway or hidden cupboard. Placing the books within the nook, Lance shut it and yawned tiredly, the sudden lack of the books’ energies leaving him exhausted and sleepy. 

Exiting his Lion, Lance sent Blue a soft smile and a wave of affection, heading towards the hangar exit. “G’night Blue. See you in the morning.” He yawned, receiving the soft goodnight from his own Lion as he made his way back over to his room.

Lance felt trapped.

He shouldn’t have let himself slip up so easily. Shouldn’t have kept visiting Blue in the middle of the night to read through the letters and notes left behind by his family. Should have known that he’d eventually be caught by the team, which would lead to uncomfortable revelations into Lance’s true past. Really, if he’d payed some extra attention to how many times he’d run into people while heading down to Blue’s hangar.

But no, he hadn’t. Which means that what could have been preventable, was now happening real time in Lance’s life.

It started, as all things do, an innocent remark tossed to Lance as he walked into the kitchen/dining area for breakfast. He’d been caught by Coran last night, wandering the hallways with headphones on, plugged into the tape recorder that had been stashed away with the rest of his family notes and letters in the hidden compartment in Blue. Coran had inquired about his recent sleeping patterns, being that Lance didn’t seem to be sleeping well recently, and all the others had suddenly rounded on Lance in concern for his well being.

Lance could only hope that he’d be able to diffuse their concerns. He didn’t want them to find out about his family legacy. Didn’t want to see the pity in their faces-he’d had enough of that growing up in the foster care system, thank you very much. 

“Guys, it’s not such a big deal!” Lance huffed, not even meeting anyone’s eyes as he swallowed a mouthful of the food goo, appetite waning quickly with the looks he was getting from everyone, “I’ve just been spending more time bonding with Blue! We’re supposed to have strong connections to our Lions, right?”

Allura frowned, Shiro crossed his arms and Lance braced himself for a scolding, “That does not mean that you should forgo your own health, Lance,” Allura said seriously, tilting her head to get Lance to try and make eye contact so he could see her sincerity, “We’re simply worried that you are not resting enough during the night, which-I have been informed-will affect you humans negatively in the long run.”

Shiro nodded beside her, moving over to place a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance had to fight the urges to either lean into the contact or flinch away from it. “Allura’s right, Lance. It isn’t healthy to only go to your Lion when you’re having problems sleeping,” A sympathetic look flashed over Shiro’s features, voice low and soft in a way that Lance absolutely hated-hated how it reminded him of the social workers taking him back from foster homes that didn’t always quite work out, their pity thick like tar as Lance tried so hard not to cry in the backseat.

Lance swallowed down the snappy reply that lingered at the tip of his tongue, mustering up a cheerful smile to hide the bitterness that festered in his chest, “Ah, yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping the best? And I don’t like bothering you guys with my homesick ass when you guys need sleep just as much as I do. Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“Does this have anything to do with those letters I saw you reading the other day?” Lance loved Hunk, fiercely, like a brother, but sometimes he desperately wished the other wasn’t so nosy. 

“Or the recorded tape I saw you fiddling with when we got back from that meeting with the Coreklians?” Pidge piped up and Lance wished they could read his mind so that they would hush up about what they’d seen.

“Or how about the notebooks I’ve seen you wandering the halls with?” Keith asked, eyebrow raised skeptically and Lance really, really wanted to throttle is rival-turned-team mate-turned-friend. 

It was silent for a few moments as they all kept looking at Lance, waiting for a reply from the blue paladin, who was trying so very hard not to let the acidic remarks he was thinking spew out of him. It felt too much like they were accusing him of something heinous, when really, all he was doing was keeping something extremely personal from the team-and yeah, that probably didn’t sound too good, considering they were supposed to be one hundred and fifty percent open with each other but Lance just couldn’t. It felt too personal, and he still wasn’t as comfortably close with the others as he felt he should be before they Unlocked His Tragic Backstory™.

“Guys,” He said, having calmed himself down some, enough that his voice wouldn’t shake and that his discomfort wouldn’t show on his face, “I appreciate that you’re all worried about me, but seriously. It’s not a big deal. I already had bad insomnia back on earth and could deal with it enough to get into the Garrison,” He smiled at them, genuinely grateful, before it fell and he looked at them seriously, “But I can’t tell you anything about the books, tapes or letters. They’re... very personal, and I don’t feel comfortable discussing them with all of you at this time,” he looked at his plate guiltily, avoiding the hurt looks the others must have on their faces, “I’m sorry.”

Shiro seemed to sigh deeply, feeling conflicted over Lance’s answer. While on one hand, he was fairly hurt that Lance didn’t seem to trust them enough to let them in more, he also understood that what Lance was hiding from them was so personal, that not even Hunk-who was Lance’s best friend and almost-brother-didn’t even know about the books. While he wanted to get Lance to open up to the team about it, be honest and bond, he didn’t want to push Lance away by being too nosy about it.

“Alright...” Shiro said hesitantly, pulling away from Lance and giving the younger man a reassuring smile once he looked up, “while I’m not happy that you’re willingly hiding something from the team, I can also respect that it’s a touchy subject for you, and is very personal and uncomfortable for you to talk about at this time.”

“However,” Allura continued, her own sweet, comforting smile in place as she drew Lance’s attention away from Shiro, “if this... secret that you are hiding from your fellow paladins truly has nothing to do with them, and will not effect the overall strength of the team and your ability to form Voltron, then we will wait patiently for you to open up to us about it.”

Hunk grinned at Lance, “Yeah bud, I don’t mind waiting till you’re ready to tell us what’s going on in that head of yours, and what those books and stuff have to do with it, but I just want you to know that no matter what, I’m here for you, ‘kay?”

“Same here,” Pidge huffed, their own smile practically mega-watt, though there was something sly to it.

Keith simply nodded, not seeing the need to add a verbal opinion as he tapped Lance’s hand, shooting the blue paladin a snarky grin. 

“Quite right, my boy! If you ever have a need for an open ear, I am open to conversing any time!” Coran called to Lance enthusiastically from the kitchen, where he was trying to cook yet another monstrosity of a meal for the paladins to try later in the day. 

Lance smiled, relief washing over him at his team’s understanding. He had no idea how he was ever going to be able to tell them the secret fears that plagued his mind, the tug in his navel that connected him to earth, to his old family house. Had no idea how he’d even be able to tell them all that he had no actual blood-related family, that he was the last of his line and that the curse on his family-whether it was real or not was debatable, but Lance had seen too much tragedy in his biological family to say there wasn’t some link to it-or how he was both terrified of returning to earth, yet also yearned for it. 

But for now they wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t pry into the secrets that he kept hidden. 

“Thanks guys,” He said, smile wide and genuine. He was just about to ask Coran what he planned to make for them when the alarm went off.

It was time to go battle.

Everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong in the end.

Lance found himself trapped, once again. Too many Galra ships surrounded his beautiful Blue, the sheer numbers causing panic to well up within him. Each ship he shot down was replaced by three more, like some creepy metallic Hydra-fleet of ships. 

“Guys, I need some help over here!” He called out desperately over the comms, wincing when several ships shot Blue, his Lion roaring out a breath of ice, catching three of the awful purple and black ships. If he didn’t get any assistance now, he’d be overwhelmed, and there’s no way he’d be able to make it out and back to the castle in one piece.

“On your right!” Keith’s voice replied, and a blast of hot fire took down several of the ships beside Lance. The blue paladin let out a breath of relief, steering Blue to float beside Red, the two Lions working together to get rid of the swarming fleet so that they could fly back to the rest of the paladins a ways back.

“Thanks dude, I was in a bit of a jam back there!” Lance called to Keith cheerfully, who snorted at the blue paladin’s enthusiasm. 

“Maybe pay a bit more attention to the number of ships you can take before you engage them next time, Lance,” Keith called over the comms, tone lightly amused, “Might not actually need some saving next time.”

“Pfft, and give you all the glory, mullet-head? Nah.”

Shiro sighed in fond exasperation at the two, ceasing what he knew would lead to some lengthy bickering between the two, “Alright, alright, enough. Come back here so we can form Voltron and get rid of the main ship.”

“You got it!” Lance cheered, flying into position. They quickly formed Voltron, connection sure and strong between the five of them and Lance allowed himself to revel in it for the time being. Blue purred warmly in the back of his mind, setting him more at ease than he had been. 

Voltron made quick work of the main ship, the paladins allowing the sweet taste of victory to flow through the bond. 

Lance should have payed more attention. He barely managed to catch a glimpse of several of the smaller ships doubling back towards Voltron, all their blasters aimed directly at Hunk’s side. Breathing in sharply, Lance cried out to Hunk, forcibly breaking Blue away from Voltron to take the hit, purple electricity clashing and invading Blue’s armour.

You know how water allows the travel of electricity through its particles, or how electric types are two times stronger than water types in Pokemon? The same seemed to extend to the Blue Lion.

For a moment, everything went still, the left over connection from Voltron still buzzing lightly in the back of Lance’s mind. In that split moment, he was reminded idly of when his great grandfather, Douglas McClain, hadn’t been paying attention to the buck his daughter, Melissa McClain, had shot. The memory from the photos flashed before him so vividly it almost felt like he was there-one moment Douglas had been holding up the head of the still twitching buck, wide smile proud, even as his daughter sobbed a ways away behind the camera, big body looking so comically large in comparison to the small cliff-top he stood on with his second wife. 

He’d been too close to the edge, his footing hadn’t been sturdy, it had rained the night before. It didn’t matter the reason. One moment Douglas McClain had been placing the head of the dying deer back down on the ground to wave at his daughter, calling for a last snap shot-and the next, the buck’s head had tossed up, a last bursting struggle, the force strong enough to knock Douglas to the side. He slipped, the snap of the camera shutter loud in the quiet stillness between life and death... and then he was falling, falling, falling.

Once Douglas McClain’s body hit the forest earth with a sickening crunch, so too did Lance’s mind snap back to the present. A piercing scream left him, body convulsing in pain as the electricity fried his cockpit and rushed through him. Blue’s pained roars drowning out the shocked and panicked gasps from his team. Voltron’s mind connection finally broke as Lance idled in pained consciousness. 

They saw it... He thought blearily, his mind feeling so, so tired and so far away from everything. I’ll... have to explain... later...