Death By Revision. (A rainy Sunday rant).

I’m in revision HELL. It’s a moist 200 degrees Fahrenheit, humidity is around 300%, and I’m trapped in a down parka with a broken zipper.

Here’s my problem: the rules.

The short story is written. Current stage: revision. The “low hanging fruit” is a thing of the past; the redundant words, over-use of the word “I” and all of the other beginner boo-boos, gone.

No sentence escapes my scrutiny - every word, each nugget of punctuation, the silent rhythm hanging out in the white space behind the typed words - all of it - is subject to my red pen.

But I’m completely paralyzed by the rules.

On the one hand, it's the nuts & bolts rules, such as not beginning a sentence with "I", "It", "And" or "But"; avoiding "to be" verbs at all cost; and, for those verbs making the cut, ensuring use of the most engaging, active form. Each line is run through my interpretation of these rules. However, while one part of my brain is busy analyzing, the other (way more amped up part) is second-guessing. Challenging not only my knowledge/application of the rules, but the credentials of those responsible for crafting them in the first place. Well, that's being nice. At certain times, I call them names and feel quite certain they were just having a laugh with some of this crap.

Possibly my favorite part of the books these rules call home is the exception clause. Why do these handbooks all include at least one caveat along the lines of ". . . but sometimes, it's ok to do [whatever they just told you not to]". I want to know. . . WHEN? When you're Mark fucking Twain?

That's just nuts & bolts. I’m also suffocated by the other rules, the rules which address more of the “art” element of writing (voice/plot development/character development/blah). Is my character round? Does every sentence move my story forward? Overall, is the story believable? Engaging? Is my character’s voice consistent? Would he say the word "stuff"? Wait, is it ok to use that word? One of rules advises against using the word stuff, or just, or . . .

So I read every freaking sentence over and over with all of these things (plus some) in mind. And I make changes and then I change things back and then I delete some of it.

In the back of my mind, a small voice warns: You're killing your story.

It's true. I'm afraid that somewhere along this path of revision, the original oomph of the story, the thing that has me all jazzed up about it, will sneak out the bedroom window.

No revision today. The story will remain snug and warm in the glowing memory stick latched to my laptop.

Hopefully, tomorrow will reveal a new outlook on revision, and my next blog will describe the details.

Fingers crossed. Rant complete. Wine breathing.