Back in January I started this series on how to use your writing process to befriend your inner critic. I’ve shared some exercises for appreciating, reconnecting with, and re-integrating your inner critic, and they’ve all loosely revolved around writing or other creative exercises. But they haven’t dealt specifically with editing, which has been the end goal of this whole project.
Wel, here we are at the end, so let’s talk about editing, what you all signed up for in the first place. Now that you recognize your Inner Critic as a distorted version of your desire to grow and succeed and be accepted, now that you’ve been able to appreciate its warning messages and transform them into inspiration, how does this apply to that notebook on your shelf or the document you can’t bring yourself to open or email in to your editor?
The Editing Block
The editing block is less frequently discussed than writer’s block, but it’s essentially the same thing. It’s an inability or avoidance of begin the editing process on a draft, whether that means doing the work yourself or submitting it to an outside editor. I relate to this in a way I’ve never related to writer’s block.
I’ve felt the instinctive mental redirection whenever the idea of editing pops up. It’s almost physical. The mind dodges, the hand jerks away from the notebook. It’s safer to avoid it than open myself up to a slog through every reminder of my own carelessness.
Into the Void
The other experience writers seem to share when they hit the editing stage is spending every waking moment in agony imagining how their work is being shredded and rejected by friends, teachers, paid editors, or agents. Hitting “send” on that submission email takes guts. Takes them and sets them into a perpetual maelstrom.
This is what I expected to experience. When Galadriel and I were ready to send out chapters of Jubilant to beta readers I braced myself for sleepless nights and a sinking feeling in my stomach whenever I checked my email for results. Ita’s how I used to feel when I submitted papers I cared about in school, so why wouldn’t I feel that way about a book I loved so much more than an essay?
It took me a while to understand why this didn’t happen to me. I was stunned by how eagerly I opened emails with comments. Sometimes healing happens so subtly, or in an unrelated area of life, that we don’t notice the connection until later. This is one of the reasons that having a safe person like a counselor or good friend, or a journal, can be so useful. Hindsight may be 20/20, but even perfect vision can’t see back over mountains climbed.
The Mistaken Lens
Editing is often colloquially defined as finding and fixing mistakes and errors, which gives it almost a witch-hunting vibe. Critical eyes searching intently for the tiniest imperfection, pages dripping with red ink. With that kind of connotation, no wonder so many people avoid and fear it. But what if we viewed editing through a slightly different lens?
Michael Angelo famously described sculpting as freeing an existing image from being encased in extraneous material. The idea was that he already knew something beautiful existed, he just had to reveal it. We can take the same approach to editing. That luscious story with gripping prose and compelling characters already exists, we just have to draw it out.
Editing and the Growth Mindset
First drafts are often so disappointing because the author knows that what she’s poured onto the page bares only a passing resemblance to the magnificent narrative experience she’s undergone in her head. We say things all the time like “it sounded better in my head” or “I can’t figure out how to get what’s in my head onto the page. It never comes out the way I imagined it.” What if we consider editing the medium through which we painstakingly adjust early drafts to better reflect the “in my head” version we’re so attached to? Drafts are like the extra marble concealing the complete and wonderful masterpiece inside.
In this context, editing is no longer finding errors, but finding outlets for the author’s vision. It’s the ability to recognize where a little sanding, a little chipping, a little cutting will remove another bit of barrier between the author’s imagination and the page she’s trying to spill it onto. Editing is a process of discovery, of revelation, then, rather than of ruthless pruning and reduction. This is the core difference between a fixed and a growth mindset.
I’ve alluded to this idea before in other posts, but I’ll go into more detail here. First, let’s have some definitions.
Fixed Mindset
The belief that intelligence, skill, talents, and capacity are fixed and stable, and cannot change or be changed over time.
Growth Mindset
TThe belief that intelligence, skill, talent, and capacity can be changed over time through effort, learning, and experience.
These definitions are summaries of concepts first introduced in this book, and explained in short in this article, for those who want to dig deeper.
The Growth of the Inner Critic
Transitioning from a fixed mindset to a growth mindset can be a little scary. It often requires discarding long-held, even cherished beliefs about how the world works. There’s a sort of safety in believing you can follow a straight line from desire through hard work to success. Straight lines are easy to follow, but they often miss fascinating detours and rarely lead us to where we really want to go. It can be difficult, but it is absolutely necessary to become comfortable with a certain amount of “not knowing.”
And that is why we worked so hard in the previous few posts to transform the inner critic back into an ally. It’s the Inner Critic’s fear that kept us locked into a behavioral formula designed to protect us, but the Compassionate Other’s job is to gently support us as we explore. With your Compassionate Other Sidekick back in its true form, you can more easily and comfortably begin the journey from a fixed mindset to a growth mindset, and begin to see editing as a channel for inspiration rather than the specter of imminent doom.
Editing, whether done by the author or through the support of an editor or two, can be a journey of revelation, the gentle work of brushing dust and debris away from treasure buried in the author’s creative instinct. It can bring joy, a sense of anticipation of what will be discovered and brought into the light. And now you have the tools to begin your own transformational work in order to receive your authorial birthright, seeing your greater vision made clear to others, and yourself.
Today your favorite blindfluencer asks you to consider where in your life you already have a growth mindset. How might this make it easier for you to shift your perspective on editing? Share any gems of inspiration you uncover in the comments below.
Look on the Dark Side 