Editing Comparisons

Yesterday, I posted a blog on the Muse It Up Blogsite, talking about mystery writing and giving a bit of a teaser for the first of my St. Louis Blues Mystery series, TOCCATA, debuting in April.

After it was posted and I'd gotten a few responses, I received my line edits for the book. I'm extracting one example to give you an idea of the difference a few words can make. I am NOT trying to embarrass my editor. I appreciate all she and my other editors have done to further my writing. But I think, when you read this, you'll agree that one's voice can be seriously modified with even a minor shift in verbiage.

There's a reason my blog is titled Pat's Plethora of Poetic Prose. That is what I write, or attempt to write. Because there's a bit of the poet in me, I tend to allow the occasional flow of fancy in my wording. Also, as a life-long musician, rhythm is extremely important to me. Words are made up of syllables, and I use them to create rhythmic prose. Not all the time; that would be boring and eventually cloying.

The first example is the edited version. After posting this, I might have started with the original, so if you want to scroll down, you can read it first. Either way, I think you'll get the point after comparing the two.

Edited

Sera felt him deep in the heart of her, pressing them relentlessly onward as their spirits merged. The music pulsed, and he urged, then held her back. It was she who worked, he who set the pace, created the nuance, the power...the exultation!

She sensed their mutual climax approaching as her body trembled with excitement. She could only allow her soul to lift to meet it. Embrace it.

Revel in it!

Her fingers hammered out the final chords of Toccata, and the audience jumped to their feet, applauding wildly. When the piano’s strings had echoed into silence, she stood and faced the standing ovation. Her fantasy lover’s music had triumphed again. Debussy’s music and Sera’s performance — what a sweet coupling!

The crowd vacated Sheldon Concert Hall, she floated to her dressing room, her senses thrumming in the afterglow. Excellent performances were always this way. Wispy images drifted across her mind, much as her musical amour’s Clouds would have floated through a lazy nineteenth-century French summer sky. Music! What an aphrodisiac!

Original

Sera felt him deep in the heart of her, pressing them relentlessly onward as their spirits merged... The music pulsed, and he urged, then held her back. It was she who worked, but he who set the pace, he who created the nuance, the power...the exultation!

She sensed their mutual climax approaching as her body trembled with excitement. She could only allow her soul to lift to meet it. Embrace it.

Revel in it!

Her fingers hammered out the final chords of Toccata, and the audience jumped to its collective feet, applauding wildly. When the piano’s strings had echoed into silence, she stood away from the instrument and faced the standing ovation. Her fantasy lover’s music had triumphed again. Debussy’s music and Sera’s performance — what a sweet coupling!

The crowd called her back to the stage three times before the cacophonous chatter died away. As they vacated Sheldon Concert Hall, she floated to her dressing room, her senses thrumming in the afterglow. Excellent performances were always this way. Wispy images drifted across her mind, much as her musical amour’s Clouds would have floated through a lazy nineteenth-century French summer sky. Music! What an aphrodisiac!

***

Lest you think the only changes made were the words in blue, I took out about thirty other words that were marked for deletion. If you're having trouble seeing the difference, read the original again, out loud. The speaking voice will bring out the exact rhythm I strove to create.

Again, I do not wish to leave the impression that I'm criticizing my editor. I merely use this as a visual and (if you spoke it aloud) auditory aid in examining just how words can be made mundane or memorable with only minor changes. Multiply this by a dozen or so passages and, even in a major novel approaching one hundred thousand words, the writer's voice can be destroyed. Brevity is to be admired, but not at the cost of all the elements a good novel must contain.

I dare say, if one is only after brevity, then one should by all means, write a poem. That is the essence of the art of brevity; making the most of indelible images with the least number of words. But, just as with the spectrum of light, there is room for poetry in huge long works of the language art, as well as in the briefest of poems.

I'll get off my soapbox now, having no doubt ruffled more than a few feathers in places where they need not be ruffled. And in a few where, no doubt, they should. See, I can't allow everything to be a mere academic discussion. It's my damn Irish temperament. I know! I should stow my temper in my teapot.

Thanks for stopping by, and I'd appreciate any comments you have. Cheers,

Patrick Dale