Writing involves sifting

Let me tell you something.

Writing this book was easy and a lot of fun. I wrote the first draft from March 13 to April 21, 2014. That was 97,500 words.

Now let me tell you something else.

From the morning bell of Tuesday, April 22 forward the editing process was hell.

I never knew how much I loved writing and how much I hated editing. I clearly know now. And, having now worked with professional editors, I realize that I am more of a proof-reader. There's a difference.

The editing / proofing process is like sifting flour. You sift and sift and sift until it's refined. Then, you sift some more. And, mostly,  you let other people - strangers even - do the sifting.

Dear Lord, it was agonizing . . . all that sifting. 

Back during my 20 years of writing for newspapers, we had a simple system. Writers were taught to get it on paper. Don't overthink the grammar and the spelling - just get it on paper and then move it to an editor. Editors do the sifting. Sometimes, editors kicked it back to writers and said, "Write this better . . . moron." Sometimes, I wrote stories for newspapers and didn't even recognize my work when it came out in print. Editors sifted the me right out of it. I once wrote a story for the Atlanta dailies and when it came out my only contribution was this: By Scott Vaughan. The rest was by someone else.

You know what? Even with all the sifting, editing and proof-reading that goes on in book publishing, there's still an estimated one error for every 200 words. Yep, even best-sellers, they say. And, so writing and editing and proofreading and sifting - this is not healthy territory for a perfectionist, the weak, the insecure or the passive. Writing and editing is one of those arenas where you do the hard work, sifting and sifting and sifting, and trust that in the end the cake will taste pretty darn good. 

However, would-be writers take note: You can be an All-Star shortstop, but if you make too many errors it will take the shine off your game. And, let me tell you - foolish writers edit their own stuff. Poor editing and lots of noticeable errors can make a great book . . . sloppy and marginal. There's no rushing a book project - the sifting must occur.

Let me give you an idea of what the sifting of my book was like. It was maddening.

As I wrote chapters, I kicked them to my Vicki and my son William to read behind me. I asked them to look especially for continuity. William and I spent 30 minutes one afternoon debating a single chapter's direction. 

Once completed, I read it all the way through . . . twice. The first read was a rewrite and the book expanded to 103,000 words. I caught a lot of mistakes along the way. Then, I read it again to catch what spelling and grammar I could catch.

Then, the manuscript went to Elizabeth in Cincinnati. She's the professional sifter who doesn't know me or, for that matter, anyone that I know. Heck, I don't even know her last name. She ripped through the book; she beat on me once or twice. The book shrank to 100,000 words. She got used to my style. In the end, she said, "I've read a lot of books, and this is one of my favorites." I wrote that in dry-erase on the bathroom mirror - I needed all the encouragement I could get.

After sending it to Elizabeth in Cincy, I woke up one night with this sick feeling. I hated two of the chapters, and I had one story to tell that I had left out. So, I rewrote those two chapters, and wrote - thank you very much - another 2,500 word chapter. The sifting then began on all of this and ultimately it went to Elizabeth, too.

When I got everything back from Elizabeth, I read the book all the way through again. (My fourth time). I kept about 98 percent of Elizabeth's suggestions. My writing style flies in the face of some grammar style. I kept my writing style. As I read through the book this fourth time, I made notes that I called "flinch spots" - things I wrote that didn't add to the stories. I either rewrote or took those out. Think of the hard bits of flour in the bottom of the sifter.

So, then I sent it to CreateSpace - the independent publisher - so those folk could format the book, knowing I would get another chance to proof. While waiting on this proof, I passed the book off to three trusted friends and asked them to read it. I have more than three trusted friends, but I couldn't let them all read it . . . for free. These friends read it through - sfited some more - and caught a handful of things: A word left out of a sentence, an extra word in a sentence, and an inconsistency here or there (tree house or treehouse - I had used it both ways). You would think with all this sifting, everything would be caught, right? Nope. That's the madness . . . for all the sifting, there are still those stray errors. 

Vicki said, "Scott, deal with it."

At the end of all the sifting, I found myself sifting the sifting, and that was when it was time to stop and publish. I was exhausted. The sifting process took SIX MONTHS. I was sick of it. When a writer is sick of his work, it's a good sign he's done the diligence and it's time to let it go.

So, here's what I will tell you:

• Write your story, but don't be afraid of the sifting. Embrace it. Other eyes and voices will make you better.
• Sift until you are sick of sifting; don't rush it. Let it happen.
• Not all of a sifter's suggestions are good, but the majority will be. Know when to keep your voice and when to let it go.