I am very aware how my written words sound to my ear.  It does not matter what it is–a blog, essay, poem, etc.  It always makes a difference when I have read a piece out loud.  That was what was first–the oral tradition.  People did not have books.  They sat around a fire reciting their stories.  When I read things I have written out loud, I find errors.  Sometimes I have deleted a word or the tense is wrong.  Other times a word may not ring true and I have to insert a different one.  Sometimes there are duplication or repetition.  If I don’t want a phrase there, I may have to move it or delete it.  I may not like the cadence or sounds the words make.  It is always easier to find the errors after I have read the piece out loud.

“How great art thou?” is a question that does not help a writer.  Of course, you will always have doubts of your talent.  Those doubts really do not help and all they do is split your concentration.

You are asking the wrong question.  The right question is to be, “Am I getting better?”  Not am I matching up to someone else’s work, which is implied in the question, “How great art thou?”

Only one person can answer the question, “Am I getting better.”  That is yourself.  All you can do is improve as a writer.  And the benchmark is your own work.

As far as publishing your work, that decision whether your work is accepted for publication is not yours.  Yes, you have to put it out there but you can not become overly concerned with that.

It prevents you from writing as well as you can if that is in back of your mind when you are writing and editing your work whether it will be published.  Your job is to get it as good as you can.  That is it.

I believe everyone has talent but somehow you have to get beyond anyone’s expectations including your own and write as honestly as you can with the least amount of affectation and be whoever you are.

You are who you are.  And when you can demonstrate that people will want to read what you have written.

When I worked on a poem, it was the most important thing in the whole world.  Until recently, practically all my poems were generated from my journals.  When I wanted to convert an entry to a poem, the time I spent working on it was the most important thing in the whole world.  I would lose myself in the poem.

Time would disappear.  I would first want to get it (the particular experience I wanted to capture) all down.  That was the function of my journal.

I was not afraid initially of being redundant.  I knew I could go back and eliminate the repetition.  Then I would go back, condense it, shape it, get it to the point I could not do any more with it.

Then I would read it to my wife and listen to her reaction and any suggestions she may have.  And go back to it.  This may happen the next day or whenever I had time although I did not want to lose interest in the poem.

I would again look at, refine it and polish it, see what I could eliminate, what got in the way, see if any phrase needed rearranging, if the timing was wrong.  I did not want to tamper too much with the original.  I would work with the poem until I could not do any more with it again.  I would have my wife hear it again.

I was very attuned to how it sounded out loud.  Did it need emphasizing here or there, did I like the way a word or phrase or line sounded to my ear.  At some point I considered the poem finished.  A lot of this was done by instinct.  Some poems I am never happy with.  And others I simply discard or look at some other time in the future.

Down the road I may venture to read it in public.  That takes a lot of courage.  Many do not make it that far.  Few get to the keyboard.  I have to feel the entry has possibilities.  That is somewhat the process of my poems.

Editing Your Work…

Author: siggy

Editing your own work is always painful.  Having one or two persons who can give you helpful feedback is invaluable.  My wife is such a person and I don’t take her for granted.  I like what Stephen King said in a book he wrote about writing, ‘take out what is not the story.’  It is not easy to do.  And an outsider is in a much better position to tell you that.  I have one test:  if you take something out of your story (poem or whatever) and you do not miss it, it did not belong there.  The beauty of a well written piece is what is left out–like a beautiful piece of music where every note counts.  You do not want to discourage the reader with clutter.  You want every word to count.  Having said that, it is not easy to do.  A good editor is worth their weight in gold.