A famous quote by E. M. Forster rings bells in every author’s mind. We often sink into writing as if hypnotized, not paying a lot of attention to what’s happening as we transcend our story, black on white.
Purposely, I have not said “transcend our story on the paper,” because I realized as time progressed and as I dared myself to write using a graphite pen and a stack of A4 papers, that the thought process is a lot different and more manageable than when writing on a computer. The major difference, at least for me, is that I often type much faster than I handwrite, so I have more time to (subconsciously) structure the coming sentence, if not the whole paragraph. It is one of the approaches worth considering, if only temporarily, to improve the writing style and sentence structure.
However, I get a sense that Forster’s quote referred to the traits of self-editing and reassessing what you wrote while trying to make more conscious literal decisions in achieving the final manuscript. The pace of writing and the pace of thinking about what you’re writing often fail to align, so finding an approach to alleviate this challenge is something that each author has to do on his own. It is worth listening to others’ advice, though. Even if the methods differentiate, the experience of writing might be essentially the same.
Beware that most of the books, speeches, and articles we’ve read come from an enormous effort of rewriting, restructuring, reorganizing text, and in the end, scrapping the unnecessary parts of it. In the first draft, we’re on a plane detached from the grammar rules and principles. We’re dealing with the original idea; the core. I say that process is much like meditation, except you’re not clearing your head from thoughts by focusing on them, then letting them go, but rather allowing them to sieve through your mind onto the blankness of a paper.
Once you take a step back from that draft, you can then look at it with another pair of eyes. That’s when you become aware of what you were trying to convey and whether you had succeeded in the effort. Also, how can you make sure the message comes across better, that the text is more readable, and that the style is engaging as opposed to boring the readers to death? In this part of the process, you have the liberty to make purely conscious literal decisions, as the art of seeking ingenuity is now behind you.
I rewrote some of my manuscripts four times before I chose to publish them, and then two more times after I already published them. Although this is, in a way, an error, which I admit having made during my self-publishing endeavors, it taught me not to underestimate the importance of respecting time in writing. Like a fine wine, a fine text needs to age so it would reach its perfect blend. Unless you’re sure that what you are writing is the best version of itself, probably approved by another person who is a trustworthy critic, give it some time and … wait.
Put into other words; how do I know what I think until I’ve seen what I’ve said, or more applicable, how do I know what I think until I’ve seen what I’ve written, tells us that we have to continually question ourselves if we want to improve, while the true questions come from self-criticism, knowledge, and the sheer desire to learn
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