The Elegant Editing of the Fancy Foop
I was having a tough time with the middle of a story that I'd been writing. It's what I deserve, I guess, for changing the way I write and expecting it to go smoothly the first time out of the barn. And of course, there's another problem, and that's my fault, too. "The first time out of the barn" - nobody talks like that anymore. It made sense when people rode in little wagons pulled by horses. They'd get a new horse and hitch him up to a carriage in the barn, then open the door and he might not feel like cooperating. In fact, there was no telling what he'd do. It might take a little coaxing before he'd agree to do his job and pull that funny thing that was following close behind him. So the first - well, you get the idea.
The way I was going at this story was part of my campaign of self-improvement. Usually, I start out with a couple of characters and some sort of a premise, write the opening page or two, and then just follow wherever the story seems to lead me. But my friends and a couple of English teachers had told me that the right way is to plan the story and make an outline, then write to the outline. Two other droplets of wisdom that I picked up along the way said that the beginning is crucial because it keeps the reader from setting the story aside and taking a nap, and the ending is what leaves the reader feeling one way or the other about the whole tale.
I began my story about Jerry and his friends, and put together an opening that would pull the reader in headfirst, yank him right out of his shoes. I was really proud of it. That left me looking at an opening and an outline, and no more words came dancing across the screen. But hey, the ending is supposed to be important, too, so how about taking a crack at that? When I was done, it ran almost two pages and it tied up all the loose ends, and made the reader understand that he was already a better person just because he'd read my masterpiece. I could just see those little gold stars descending on me, five at a clip. After all, the most important parts are done, right? The middle, well, that would just go along for the ride.
The trouble was that it didn't. For weeks I had a start and a finish, and nothing in between. Like a ham sandwich with just the bread. I sat at the keyboard and waited for the ham to come along, and nothing happened. My lead character, Jerry, was just standing around waiting for me to give him a shove. I was getting anxious to have the yawning gap filled, and I imagined that Jerry was, too.
Finally, one Thursday I got determined. I set the outline aside and started writing about Jerry did this, and Jerry said that, and what kind of a car Jerry drove, and how Jerry's sore back felt, and of course, Jerry's hangups about his mother - all the things I could think of about Jerry. Just before I broke for supper, I had him in a saloon playing shuffleboard. He and his partner, playing red, needed just four points to go out, and Jerry was up. His opponent had two pucks just over the line, side by side. Jerry had the hammer. He took aim and rode the side of the board with two fingers to steady his hand, and let the puck go. It sailed true, and from the time it left his hand he could see that it was going to punch its way right between those two pucks that the opponent had parked there so neatly to guard his points. from attack. Jerry smiled and his partner went into a little dance as the red puck smashed into the two black ones simultaneously, and they flew off the board, sweeping their companion off with them and leaving only Jerry's pucks in scoring positions to win the game! His last shot had combined brilliant defense and offense, all in one fell swoop!
That happy outcome was exactly what I needed to lift Jerry's spirits so he could face a new challenge in the next chapter, so I was pleased to be leaving the story on an upbeat. One more afternoon as good as this one, and my story would be ready to send off for editing. It could be submitted by the end of the month, ahead of the holiday rush! Move over, Hemingway.
By the next night I had the finished story in my hands. It didn't seem to me like all that much, but it was strong at the start and finish, and I had written to an outline, more or less. I sent it off to my usual editors, Sally and Herb, to be picked apart and made whole again, with all the words spelled right and all the subjects and verbs in harmonious agreement. In my note to them I stressed that I'd like to get it in by the end of the month, and then I left them to smooth it out into a passable product.
What came back was barely recognizable. I was shocked, and called Sally right away. She suggested that the three of us should get together for a story conference. Saturday morning we met at my house, and I was in a grim mood as I led them down to my basement man-cave, also known as The Dungeon.
"What happened to the saloon shuffleboard scene?"
"Yeah, that was a real problem. We worked long and hard on that one before we got it all straightened out. I was so surprised, because you don't normally get confused like that. But it's all right now."
