Joseph Carrabis – Page 161 – Joseph Carrabis, Author Blog

Susan Bell’s “The artful edit”

Susan Bell’s The artful edit should be required reading for anyone who writes and/or calls themselves an editor.

First, it is a how-to of the mind, not of the pen (or keyboard). You won’t find rules on punctuation or grammar (or if they’re in there, I didn’t notice).

What you will find is page after page of stunning insight into how editing and editorial minds work. Most authors I know read through their manuscripts at least once before submitting them for publication. I know what I look for during such reads and realize now I’m skimming the surface.

Bell explains different editing methodologies in wonderful detail. More than that, she shares how a variety of editors work, what’s in their heads while they edit, what they look for, their goals for manuscripts, and much more.

The artful edit is rife with examples (another major plus for me). Each example comes from the exchange between an author and their editor (of which she is one) and is detailed by the exchange itself. How did The Great Gatsby become great? What became of the editor who wanted to hem in Hemingway?

Bell’s bibliography is a prize in itself, a must reading list.

Greetings! I’m your friendly, neighborhood Threshold Guardian. This is a protected post. Protected posts in the My Work, Marketing, and StoryCrafting categories require a subscription (starting at 1$US/month) to access. Protected posts outside those categories require a General (free) membership.
Members and Subscribers can LogIn. Non members can join. Non-protected posts (there are several) are available to everyone.
Want to learn more about why I use a subscription model? Read More ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes Enjoy!

Join EU actress @Sabine_Rossbach and author @JosephCarrabis for Episode 3, “Learn Chess, Yes”, of The Augmented Man Video Series 29 June 2020 9amET

Sabine Rossbach gives another fabulous reading (I’m not saying that as marketing. I get chills from her interpretation of the work) in Episode 3, “Learn Chess, Yes”.

Watch Episodes

Learn about the research leading to this new format.

Follow The Augmented Man video trailer series.

Why It Works for Me – Joanell Serra’s “The Vines We Planted”

This is the twelfth in a series I’m doing wherein I discuss why a particular piece of writing works for me, aka, this piece of writing taught me something about writing, encouraged me to be a better writer, engaged me, captivated me, educated me, et cetera.

As I’ve written elsewhere, it’s one thing to know something is good, it’s a better thing (in my opinion) to know why it’s good and then be able to copy what’s good about it, to learn from it so you can be as good and (hopefully) better.

This time out, Joanell Serra’s “The Vines We Planted”.

Shaman Story Chapter X – The Childhood Door

[I mentioned in Shaman Story Chapter 5 – Lessons that chapter numbering would get wonky as Shaman Story is a work in progress.
At this point, I’m adding chapters to the beginning to foreshadow events happening in later chapters, this one being a case in point.
I’ve learned to live with such things. Hope you do, too.]

Read Shaman Story Chapter 7 – Sensing.

Shaman Story Chapter X – The Childhood Door

Buppa stops, turns, let’s me see him in another place. Somewhere beyond the moon, under the sea, through his garden, into the earth.

A big wooden door, made from trees and branches all woven together, leaves grow out of limbs making eaves and lintels. There’s a little window but it’s too high for me to see in. A light flickers through the glass. A candle.

“What’s that, Buppa?”

“It’s a door, a very special door. But only for you, Gio, not for anybody else.”

“It’s my door?”

“Yes, but only if you want to learn more. If you want to learn more you have to go in.”

The door has no handle. I step closer, onto a mat of tightly woven hay and flax.

The mat opens eyes. It lifts and spins like it’s caught in a whirlwind. It pushes me back, grows four legs, a spiky tail and a giant head. The woven flax and hay become golden fur. It stops spinning and lands on its feet, larger than me, larger than Buppa, larger than the door.

It looks down at me. “Are you afraid, Gio?”

“Yes.”

“Good answer, truthful answer. Do you want to go in?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I don’t know what’s expected. “To learn more?”

The creature smiles. It has many, many teeth, like needles. It drools. Its drool splashes and steams like acid on ground that isn’t there. “Are you asking or telling?”

I want my Buppa. He’s not here. He’s always with me. Where’s my Buppa?

“Anything else?”