Ah, editing. Or perhaps we should call it rewriting. Either way, the process is about shaping. Working a piece, getting in between the lines, smoothing out the wrinkles to make it that much closer to perfect, even if it can never get there.
And, as all of you writers out there surely know, nothing ever can.
But still. We have to try.
See the two versions of the same passage below. Neither are perfect, of course, but one hits a hell of a lot harder. Yet they are practically the same; a written-word version of those goofy find-the-difference-between-these-pictures games you sometimes find on the gambling machines in bars.
Just goes to show you. The changes don't have to be huge to make a huge difference.
--------------------Version A--------------------
Devlan drew his sword with the metal hand and joined the fighting. They weren’t even paying attention to him.
He came down on one with his back turned and ran him through, the blade horizontal, straight through the spine like Claive had taught him.
It got their attention, but only enough so that Claive could take advantage of a few new openings. Devlan pulled his sword from the man he’d just killed, and for just a brief moment, he caught sight of Claive’s eyes.
He froze for a moment, unable to help it. They were bloodshot, almost pulsing with crimson. Claive’s mouth was open, teeth bared. His breaths snarled out through flared nostrils. The expression didn’t look like it should ever belong on a human face. It was the most horrifying thing Devlan had ever seen.
--------------------Version B--------------------
Devlan drew his sword with the metal hand and crashed into the fight. The Keepers hardly seemed to notice.
He came down on one with his back turned and ran him through, the blade horizontal, straight through the spine like Claive had taught.
It got the guards' attention, but only enough that Claive found a few new openings. One turned at Devlan, only to have a blade explode through his head before Devlan could even pull his sword free. Devlan blinked as the blood hit his face. Then he caught a flash of Claive’s eyes.
Devlan froze and stared, trapped. The eyes were wide and bulging, dark as blood around those pale pricks of grey. Claive’s lips stretched back, his teeth bared in a monstrous smile. Hot breath snarled out through flared nostrils, the vapors clouding like smoke around a burning head.
It was the most horrifying thing Devlan had ever seen. A face that didn’t look like it could ever belong to a man.
Excerpts taken from drafts of The Seed of Desolation.
And, as all of you writers out there surely know, nothing ever can.
But still. We have to try.
See the two versions of the same passage below. Neither are perfect, of course, but one hits a hell of a lot harder. Yet they are practically the same; a written-word version of those goofy find-the-difference-between-these-pictures games you sometimes find on the gambling machines in bars.
Just goes to show you. The changes don't have to be huge to make a huge difference.
--------------------Version A--------------------
Devlan drew his sword with the metal hand and joined the fighting. They weren’t even paying attention to him.
He came down on one with his back turned and ran him through, the blade horizontal, straight through the spine like Claive had taught him.
It got their attention, but only enough so that Claive could take advantage of a few new openings. Devlan pulled his sword from the man he’d just killed, and for just a brief moment, he caught sight of Claive’s eyes.
He froze for a moment, unable to help it. They were bloodshot, almost pulsing with crimson. Claive’s mouth was open, teeth bared. His breaths snarled out through flared nostrils. The expression didn’t look like it should ever belong on a human face. It was the most horrifying thing Devlan had ever seen.
--------------------Version B--------------------
Devlan drew his sword with the metal hand and crashed into the fight. The Keepers hardly seemed to notice.
He came down on one with his back turned and ran him through, the blade horizontal, straight through the spine like Claive had taught.
It got the guards' attention, but only enough that Claive found a few new openings. One turned at Devlan, only to have a blade explode through his head before Devlan could even pull his sword free. Devlan blinked as the blood hit his face. Then he caught a flash of Claive’s eyes.
Devlan froze and stared, trapped. The eyes were wide and bulging, dark as blood around those pale pricks of grey. Claive’s lips stretched back, his teeth bared in a monstrous smile. Hot breath snarled out through flared nostrils, the vapors clouding like smoke around a burning head.
It was the most horrifying thing Devlan had ever seen. A face that didn’t look like it could ever belong to a man.
Excerpts taken from drafts of The Seed of Desolation.
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