Editing My Baby

It’s interesting how the mind reacts when self-editing the newborn novel.
We stare lovingly with stars in our eyes and never see the obvious.
Before us is a helpless infant and we, as authors, have the power and the means to either relegate it to bastard stepchild status, even mutilate it, or give it sustenance and the right amount of care to help it reach its full potential as a story that propels readers to another place, another time and into another life twisting emotions to whatever end the author desires. It’s difficult in the beginning to see anything but the most beautiful baby in the world. In reality, it’s an embryo faintly resembling a novel.
As with any parent, it’s a difficult task to nurture without coddling or to discipline without harming.
This morning I sat at the keyboard going over a chapter in a novel now almost six years, by no means an infant, and still unpublished. It was one specific paragraph that spawned this line of thinking. In my opinion it was superbly written—just the right amount of narration to balance crisp dialogue without cumbersome adverbs or overuse of adjectives. It plucked a heart string the way I intended when first written in 2005.
The only problem with it, I came to realize, was that the entire paragraph, every well-placed word, was superfluous to the story. It didn’t need to be there. The story would not miss it at all. It felt as if someone had slapped me and that’s not just hyperbole; I felt a real sting. I loved that paragraph, usually reading it two or three times before moving on.
This is where the infant/parent comparison is most appropriate; when I decided that my only choice was removing it, I might as well have decided to amputate the pinky finger of an only child, a teenage child at that.
I now have a new opinion: When I’m finished with it, this eighty-four-thousand word six-year old novel may be ten to fifteen-thousand words shorter.
If, at some point in the future, the novel is blessed by some publisher, I’ll build a shadow box and next to the published novel will be placed a very well written paragraph. I’ll just let people ask me why.

Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010

Writer's Block

Where does writer’s block come from?

I suppose the question doesn’t have a pat answer but I think I have a handle on it in my case. It’s a matter of creativity choked off by everyday life—money worries, family problems, backed-up plumbing, and on, and on and on.
Here’s where that handle gets a might difficult to hang on to; I haven’t found the key to make creativity top of the heap. It’s just another thing in the heap.
Wine works well, but it’s certainly not a fix I care to lean on regularly. As time goes on, that cure will surely become the curse. I’ve seen and heard of it happening to many writers, musicians, and actors.
So, let’s start a meaningful discussion: When you hit a wall with your writing, what works for you?
Trust me, any technique offered will be cheerfully received.

Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Summer 2010

Education and Common Sense

I experienced a true phenomenon yesterday—a university professor educated beyond common sense. Education and good old horse sense, I am now convinced, can be mutually exclusive.


The man is brilliant in his field and we had a fascinating conversation about the human condition. He eloquently quoted Fritz Perls and Freud, among others. I kept my chin in my palm enthralled with his expertise on what makes humans tick.

He is one of those people with degrees, diplomas and certificates of achievement framed and hanging on his office wall in numbers that left little wall space visible. He obviously had spent innumerable hours studying to have such wisdom available without referencing some dusty old text.

As his time for me dwindled, his mind clicked over to chores he had to get done when he got home, like mowing the lawn. That’s the one that got my attention.

He asked, “Since only the ends of a mower blade are sharpened, how does it cut grass in the center?”

I laughed.

He didn’t.

So, I told him that forward momentum takes care of it.

He had to think about it for a full second, maybe two and then the light in his eyes went on.

Later, while thinking about that odd transformation from enlightened guru to dim bulb within seconds, I visualized an eager young college student holding out a bag while professors, teachers, mentors and instructors filled that bag with knowledge within a very narrow range. The student kept his nose in that bag the whole time, years actually, never paying attention to the world around him. Questions came to mind.

If given the choice, would it be preferable to learn everything there is to know about a subject within a narrow range? Or, should we work at becoming better rounded in our education? Or, does it really matter? Simply asked: Is it better to know a lot about very little or to have some knowledge about many different things?

I’m sure the answer lies with where the passion is. As for me, I have a new respect for Texas rednecks.



Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Anne Bonny, Where Are You?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/Spring 2010