Let's face it, many first-time novelists (and I, most assuredly, once bore that label) live in the Land of the Blind. We work our way to a completed manuscript by feel. And it feels good.
To us, being blind is the way things are. We have no clue about what vision can reveal because we have no concept of vision. We had a story in our heads and, as nearly as we can see, it's right there on the paper. But, you see, we can't see.
We might give our manuscript to another group of fellow land-of-the-blind denizens, readers. They might be family, friends, fellow first-timers, or even more qualified people. But they're still blind. They can only give us input on how our manuscript feels.
One of my clients said this:
"I was using friends as editors, all of them people with some knowledge of storytelling-an actress, a business magazine editor, an amateur writer and an English teacher. I thought that would cover the spectrum of problems I might create in my story.
"I did get good comments, but the criticism was not very constructive. All my friends felt there was 'something missing,' or 'something is not working.' While I knew they were right, I didn't know exactly what was bothering us."
Cliché alert: the blind leading the blind. Have you been there?
With work (lots of studying, writing, critiques…), some of us get one eye open and become the One-Eyed Writer in the Land of the Blind. Our vision isn't perfect, being monocular, but at least we have a shot at seeing some of the flaws in our stories and in those of others. Our one-eyedness comes from being subjective creatures, unable to know all and see all because our other eye is covered up by personal filters and lack of perfect knowledge.
One-eyed writers sometimes also turn into editors. And they learn ways to help their blind compatriots to see shortcomings in storytelling and craft that chain their stories to the page and prevent them from springing to life in the minds of readers. I can tell you that it's very satisfying work. My client again, about my editing:
". . .pinpointed difficulties in the story, but the best part was specific proposals of how to remedy the problems, suggestions that allowed me to move from where I was stuck and take the story to a higher level."
But vision isn't the only ability writers need to succeed: in the land of music it's called "pitch." Writers need good, if not perfect, "pitch" for the rendering of written narrative. I've seen reports that linguistic ability can be genetically influenced, and I know that all my life I've been helped by an innate sense of pitch for the sound and rhythm of both spoken and written narrative. Where to put the commas, for example, and how to arrange verbs and nouns to achieve both clarity and impact.
Unfortunately, as I'm sure agents and other editors will tell you, many first-time novelists are not only blind but tone-deaf, too. Right now I'm struggling with what to say to a couple of writers who have sent sample chapters because they're interested in an edit.
I see pages of comma faults, for example, where words just string out, with no modulation for pace or meaning. Here's a sample (modified for content but structure maintained):
A gate opened and a cop came out peering in their direction continuing on to the street.
My basic fee for editing this novel would be about $1,400, a sum my
bank account would be delighted to see. And this is clearly a writer in
need
I don't want to take on the job because I don't know how to cure linguistic tone-deafness. Oh, there are rules that could be cited, but this reaches deeper than rules or craft. It's a matter of talent. Like pitch. You have it or you don't.
I can help a writer to "see" on storytelling and craft issues. As my clients know, my edits are filled with comments that not only spell out the nature of shortcomings, but also suggest ways to deal with them. But how do you teach a singer to sing on key if the biological/mental ability to do it just isn't there?
I respect ALL writers who have the gumption to complete a manuscript. It's huge. But first-timers can't stop there and plunge into submitting their stories. I feel sorry for those who never seek out a one-eyed person to show them the way to a living story, those who don't know that they're blind. Those people, though, can still control their writerly destinies by changing their ways and finding an expert, fresh eye to open theirs.
The ones I despair for are writers who, blindness and all, have created manuscripts that fail on the even more basic level of language. What can I say to them? "I'm sorry?" That's no help. "You've spent countless hours creating something that, at the professional level, is fundamentally unreadable?" No. What's the kindest thing to do, go easy on their feelings and soft-pedal the message? Or, like a good doctor, tell them the bitter truth about their incurable disease?
To complicate matters, I still have to deal with the fact that I'm subjective. Who am I to pronounce a death sentence? Maybe there's another surgeon down the hall with a cure for tone-deafness. Maybe it's a combination…I'm sorry, I can't help you because I think…etc. Maybe, baby…
I'm wondering, why this post? I guess it's just my way of wrestling
with this issue out loud. But maybe it's also a way of letting you know
about the reality of what agents and freelance editors and slush-pile
readers who receive manuscripts unscreened by any criteria of
professionalism have to deal with, day after day. Maybe those
form-letter, "it's not for me" rejections are the only way empathetic
agents and editors can deal with it. But it's a quandary
For what it's worth.
Ray
Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.
© 2005 Ray Rhamey