Trimming the Fat

Cut here. Snip there. It's best to use a scalpel, not a machete. This is delicate work. Is that blood? Did I nick an artery? Could I get a little oxygen?

I’m talking about dejunking my writing.

When writing a picture book, it’s best to be thrifty with words. This has been a hard lesson for me, because I adore words. I love the sound of words and the feel of the rhythm as the words slide over my tongue and fly through the air. I love word pictures and descriptive phrases. However, in a picture book,the fewer words, the better.

Last year after attending a writer's conference, I did major surgery on three of my favorite picture book manuscripts. I learned at the writer's conference that most publishers will no longer look at picture book manuscripts that are over 1,000 words. Why? It is because they are not very marketable. Neither Barnes and Noble nor Borders will pick them up. Can you guess who drives the market? Barnes and Noble and Borders would be a good guess. Most people are looking for a quick read in a picture book. Busy parents want to shorten the bedtime routine.

I had three wonderful picture book manuscripts that were well over 2,000 words. They were beautiful. They were my darlings. Could I do it? Could I trim them down to less than 1,000. Was it possible? Where to start? I took the challenge.

First I decided to trim the fat. In a picture book , an obvious place to look for fat is description. Since half of a good picture book is pictures, make the illustrations count. Don’t describe anything that can be shown in illustrations. It was surprising how many words I could lose by making my manuscript illustrator dependent. Snip. Snip.

Still, I had a long way to go. Next I looked for details that weren’t essential to the story. No matter how clever, or delightful, if the story didn’t hinge on it, it had to go. This bought me a few words. Cut and trim.

Dialogue can breathe life into your story, but in a picture book, dialogue sucks up a lot of words. I looked carefully at dialogue. Which dialogue made the story better? Which dialogue could I do without? Where could I tighten things up. Trim here. Snip there.
This was encouraging. Maybe it was possible. Drum roll, please. Word count? Aargh. Still 150 words to go. Trim the fat. Essentials only. Can I do it? Can I?

I looked for ways to economize on words. I cut unnecessary articles, like a’s and the’s. I hit the delete key again and again. Is there a shorter way to say this? Could I find one word that could replace two or maybe three? Snip. Cut. Trim.

Would my story survive? At first, I felt that death was imminent, but I had to try. As the process continued, I grew more hopeful. Toward the end, I became passionate, exhilarated by the challenge.

At last, triumph. My story was leaner. There was no trace of fat, not even an ounce. Was it still a story? That’s what you want to know, isn’t it? Did the story survive?

I feel a strong pulse, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Time will tell, but I think she’ll pull through. Oxygen, please. Stat.

Linda Garner

I Love a Good Sort-Out

I think I have spent a good portion of my life dejunking. I seem to attract clutter. I know people who collect things. I have a friend who collects elephants, and another who collects teacups. I, on the other hand collect stuff. I blame it on my pioneer heritage. I hold on to things because I might need them some day.

I started the new year dejunking. It’s quite liberating. I am enjoying letting go of things that no longer serve me. When I finish dejunking a closet or a room, I stand back and admire the clean space I have created. It’s a nice feeling. Then I move on to another messy spot. I have so many messy spots that I will probably spend a good share of 2010 dejunking. Will it ever end?

Like a line I heard once on a Brittish comedy, I love a good sort-out. In my life, I have often found a good sort-out helpful. I enter the closet of my mind and find aging moldy thoughts and attitudes long outgrown or completely worn out, but not discarded. It’s liberating to toss them out, and make space for new ideas, new habits, a new me.

Dejunking my heart is another life-long process. It can be painful, but satisfying. I’m thinking of tossing out fear and making room for trust. Perhaps I’ll throw out anger to make room for love. Maybe I could clear out judgement to make room for joy.

Dejunking is such good therapy that maybe I should try it on my writing. Am I brave enough to look for clutter there? How many words can I afford to keep? How many is too many? Which ones should I toss?

Sometimes it hurts. But only for a little while.

I love a good sort-out.

Linda Garner

Letting It Go

Choose Again Part 2

It was at a piano teachers’ workshop that I heard the words, “If you’re hurting somewhere, that’s where you’re holding on.” Our instructor was talking about the correct use of the body. She was teaching us how to relax our bodies and let go of tension in order to improve our sound. When I heard those words, I was not just thinking about playing the piano. I was thinking about my life, and I felt electricity go through my body as I recognized the kernel of truth in her statement.

You see, I was hurting in lots of places, but not physically. I was hurting emotionally. I began to consider the possibility that I was in charge of my pain. I began to consider the possibility that I could release pain, by letting go. I began to question myself about things I was holding on to. Was it time to let go?

I discovered that I was holding on to anger, grief, sadness. I discovered that I was holding on to control and unrealistic expectations. I discovered that I was holding on to judgment, disapproval, and blame. These emotions were no longer serving me and they were making me tired, anxious, and depressed. Even worse, the negative emotions I was addicted to were making me sick.

Over time, I have learned more about releasing negative emotions. At first, it was difficult to let go. For one thing, I didn’t really know how. Also I was afraid to let go. I was addicted to being right. I was addicted to fixing things, and people. I can really only fix one person and that is me. It turned out that fixing me involved letting go.

Letting go has been a journey. I want to stay on that path. I have come a long way. There is more to do, but for today, I no longer need to be right. I no longer need to fix people. I love letting go of things that no longer serve me. I love letting go of anger, grief, sadness, and unrealistic expectations. Letting go turned out to be more powerful than holding on. The negative emotions I was carrying were hurting me; holding me back.

It’s interesting to note, that as I have learned to let go of emotional baggage, I have also been able to let go of physical debris. You see, I am a world class saver. I am surrounded by stuff that I no longer need. I am constantly dejunking. I have piles that are older than your children. The more I let go of emotional stuff, the more I am able to let go of physical stuff. It seems there is connection between emotional dejunking and physical dejunking.

As I let go of emotional baggage, my body is beginning to heal. I feel better. I have more energy. I am more content. I love myself more. My body took a big hit from all the emotional garbage it was forced to carry for me. My body showed up for me 24 hours a day, 365 days of the year. I never had a better friend.

What’s holding you back? If you’re hurting somewhere, that’s where you’re holding on. Is it time to let go? Maybe it’s time to Choose Again.

Linda Garner