revisions :: writing it right

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)
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

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4 Responses

  1. 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.

  2. 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.

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