I’m working on revisions for a book I recently finished. A lot of writers despise this part of the process. We scratch our heads, wondering why we didn’t write it right the first time. Well, because…I don’t know why. A first draft just comes out the way it does. I tell myself revision is re-vision. I get a chance to apply a new vision to the work. To re-imagine it. That’s not so bad, right?
Today’s wisdom is from the master, Dr. Seuss.
So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.
–Dr. Seuss
Singing Cats (endpaper from Cat in the Hat songbook)
Dr. Seuss is my hero for a lot of reasons. The perfect quote above is one of those reasons. Also, I collect his art. I admire his career. Did you know, he never took an advance from a publisher? Which probably makes him a hero to publishers as well…
#writing #revisions #Dr.Seuss
4 Responses
I write short essays and pictures in words, a few short stories, but not really for publication. We had a neighbor, a nurse by profession, that I always remembered, and learned later in life that she attended the doctor in my birth. On a trip to my parents, I dropped by to see her. Two weeks later she died. I composed a short memorial tribute for her two years later while driving on another trip. I submitted it to our city newspaper and it was published. It was from the heart and the words just came to me, first draft. Later, I wrote about my experience in seeing a replica Wall, The Moving Wall of Vietnam war dead, a way that by happenstance passed me by. That was 25 years ago and I cannot get the words right. It finally has dawned on me that I have not been able to express my feelings from the heart but rather from the head, and it is just not real. A few short stories, only one submitted and published, light stories in the mode of O. Henry, and minor revision is all that is needed.
I write short essays and pictures in words, a few short stories, but not really for publication. We had a neighbor, a nurse by profession, that I always remembered, and learned later in life that she attended the doctor in my birth. On a trip to my parents, I dropped by to see her. Two weeks later she died. I composed a short memorial tribute for her two years later while driving on another trip. I submitted it to our city newspaper and it was published. It was from the heart and the words just came to me, first draft. Later, I wrote about my experience in seeing a replica Wall, The Moving Wall of Vietnam war dead, a way that by happenstance passed me by. That was 25 years ago and I cannot get the words right. It finally has dawned on me that I have not been able to express my feelings from the heart but rather from the head, and it is just not real. A few short stories, only one submitted and published, light stories in the mode of O. Henry, and minor revision is all that is needed.
I need to work on that. I’m too wordy and wonky when I write.
I need to work on that. I’m too wordy and wonky when I write.