Found Novel Notes, part two

As I finish reading the last words of a found novel and notes, I am reminded of the writing of those last words. How the fire burned in the fireplace. The intensity of emotion that passed as I realized there was no going back to it. The story was finished. Complete.

I am not feeling that way now. After having read the tale originally from the inside out, reading it as an outsider I am dissatisfied. The characters, though once magnetic and fiery now seem a bit dull. The inspiration, I think dwindles about one third of the way through…

I could go on, but I won’t. I should edit it, but will I?

Ultimately, it’s your decision what to do with any of your work that will determine what you do with old work when you innevitably return to it whether by intention or accident.

Some people literally put their writing in a safe box. Some people try to sell it for years without success. Some people simply write to write, without yearning for economic success because of it.

I answer the question by returning to the beginning of the novel. With a stiff cup of coffee in hand and a pen, I scratch words and ideas in the margins, cut entire scenes because in the end I know these scenes do not develop the characters or move the action forward.

I have become exceedingly accurate at doing this.

Each scene is cut to the essence. Soon enough, there is no filler. The story is an empty canoli shell. But this in my opinion is the best part, the sweet shell.

In my opinion when you leave someone enough space to breath their own ideas into the tale, their own interpretations of what a character should or should not have said or done, they will surely find the tale lodged in the problem solving cubicle of thinking where it will ruminate, take seed, grow further than it was ever intended to.

It depends largely on your intentions.

My intention is to make it a better story. It always is.