Is there a work of art – of literature, or film, or illustrative art – which captures writing a novel? The whole process?
Well, I think so. It is The Unstrung Harp or Mr. Earbass Writes a Novel by Edward Gorey. The mechanics have changed. The industry is different. But the core of the story – the struggle and the madness – remains true. Especially where editing is concerned.
Now, no one should take this post as anything but my experiences. I’m sure other authors have far more defined, practiced, and efficient means of editing a novel. And, yes, I do have several trunk novels under my belt. I did my best to edit them into shape, but there were fundamental flaws no amount of cutting and pasting could clear up. But this book, Phantom Killer, feels different. The edits feel purposeful and directed. I have a sense of what needs to be changed, and why, and how it serves the story.
But this doesn’t mean the process is neat or quick. In The Unstrung Harp, Mr. Earbass literally sets to his manuscript with “pen, ink, scissors, paste, a decanter of sherry, and a vast reluctance.”
While we have electronic means for this task… the task itself doesn’t change. For Phantom Killer, have the draft zero of the manuscript studded with comments and notes in Microsoft Word. As I’m going through the chapters, I print them out and begin adding further edits. I then go into Scrivener and begin to change what needs changing. Sometimes, this involves just a few places where I’ve been unclear, or I’ve been typing faster than I’ve been thinking.
Other places? Whole scenes get transposed. One chapter gets split and added to another chapter. Right now, I’m working on writing a new scene for chapter six because I didn’t feel any of the characters properly expressed themselves: on what needed to be done, the risks involved, and why some were better suited to undertaking them than others. If this was a movie, it would mean gathering the cast and crew back together on a set which may or may not have been struck to add new scenes for connective tissue.
That takes time. That takes effort. And for someone who squeezes a few hours of this in during the weekends, it means progress tends to be slow. And I have to abstain from the sherry (or port, whiskey, and certain ciders). It’s also easy to veer off into other directions. Believe me, there’s a short story I’d rather be working on right now. There’s another short story I’d rather be expanding and editing. Not because I don’t love this project – but because I know there will be a quicker end to things.
Maybe I should save the port for after the writing is done…
The Unstrung Harp captures all of this and more. The doubt, the moments of clarity, the hallucinations, the bloaters – Edward Gorey has done what no film or, to my recollection, novel has done and captured a writer in the wild. As if I didn’t need more reasons to adore him.
Biomechanoid Blues 